Grasping  Edith  tightly  in   his  arms,    Braxley  turned  his 
horse's  head  to  fly  from  the  scene.     Page  356. 

Frontispiece  Nick  of  the  Woods 


Nick  of  the  Woods 


A  STORY  OF  THE  EARLY  SETTLERS 
IN  KENTUCKY 

BY 

ROBERT  MONTGOMERY    BIRD 


With  Four  Page  Illustrations 
By  J.  WATSON  DAVIS 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY,  PUBLISHERS 
NEW  YORK 


PREFACE. 

A  PECULIARLY  romantic  interest  has  ever  been  attached 
to  the  name  and  history  of  Kentucky — the  first  region  of 
the  great  ultramontane  Wilderness  penetrated  by  the  Sag- 
genah,  or  Englishman — the  first  torn  from  its  aboriginal 
possessors,  and  converted  from  a  desert  hunting-ground 
into  the  home  of  civilized  men.  The  ramblings  of  the  soli- 
tary Boone,  in  whose  woodland  adventures  we  recognize  the 
influence  of  the  wild  passion,  as  common  on  the  American 
frontier  as  in  the  poet's  closet: 

"To  roam  for  food,  and  be  a  naked  man, 
And  wander  up  and  down  at  liberty" — 

and  the  fierce  strife  of  those  who  followed  in  his  paths,  with 
the  lords  of  the  forest,  are  chapters  in  its  annals,  which,  if 
they  be  not  themselves  poetry,  are  productive  of  all  its 
effects  on  the  minds  of  the  dreamy  and  imaginative. 

But  apart  from  the  charm  the  history  of  Kentucky  pos- 
sesses for  the  romantic,  it  has  an  interest  scarcely  inferior 
for  the  grave  and  reflecting.  This  is  derived  from  a  con- 
sideration of  the  character  of  the  men  by  whom,  in  the 
midst  of  difficulties  and  dangers  as  numerous  and  urgent — 
perhaps  more  so  than  ever  attended  the  establishing  any 
colony  in  North  America — were  laid,  upon  a  basis  as  firm 
as  if  planned  by  the  subtlest  and  wisest  spirits  of  the  age, 
the  foundations  of  a  great  and  powerful  State.  They  were, 
with  but  few  exceptions,  men  drawn  from  what,  in  our 
vanity,  we  call  the  humbler  spheres  of  life — farmers  and 
hunters,  the  mountaineers  of  Virginia  and  the  Carolinas — 
men  <fborn,"  to  use  the  words  of  their  own  historian,  "in 

iii 


PKEFACE. 

indigence,  and  nurtured  in  ignorance,  thrown  upon  the 
world  without  a  ray  of  science  to  guide,  or  even  the  rudi- 
ments by  which  it  was  to  be  obtained ;"  but  who,  under  all 
these  disadvantages,  without  the  influence  of  any  great  and 
experienced  mind  to  impel,  direct,  or  counsel,  succeeded  in 
their  vast  enterprise,  wrested  from  the  savage  the  garden- 
land  of  his  domain,  and  secured  to  their  conquest  all  the 
benefits  of  civil  government  and  laws.  Their  success  may 
be  considered  a  phenomenon  in  history ;  but  the  philosophic 
examiner  will  perhaps  find  in  it  an  illustration  of  the 
efficacy  of  the  republican  principle  in  enlarging  the  mind, 
and  awakening  the  energies  of  men  whom  the  influence  of 
another  code  of  political  faith  would  have  kept  in  the  dark- 
ness and  insignificance  to  which  they  were  born.  It  is  not 
to  be  denied  that  men  of  education  and  refinement  were  to 
be  found  among  the  earlier  settlers  of  Kentucky;  but  the 
most  prominent  and  distinguished  founders,  the  command- 
ers of  the  stations,  the  leaders  of  the  military  forces — those 
who  are,  and  must  continue  to  be,  recollected  as  the  true 
fathers  of  the  State,  were  such  persons  as  we  have  described, 
ignorant  but  ardent,  unpolished  and  unpretending,  yet 
brave,  sagacious,  and  energetic — the  very  men,  in  fact,  for 
the  time  and  the  occasion. 

These  remarks  will  serve  as  an  explanation,  and,  if  it 
be  necessary,  as  an  apology  for  some  of  the  characters  that 
figure  in  the  following  pages,  particularly  that  of  the  hon- 
est colonel  of  militia.  In  a  story  written  to  illustrate  the 
early  period  in  which  those  men  were  busily  engaged  in 
strengthening  and  securing  their  little  State — a  period  the 
darkest  and  stormiest  in  the  annals  of  the  Indian  border — 
it  was  both  fitting  and  necessary  that  some  representative 
of  the  race  should  appear.  The  outlines  may  be  ruder  than 
was  proper  or  just;  but  they  will  be  the  better  foil  to  the 
generous  qualities  of  spirit,  common  at  that  day  to  all  the 
men  of  Bruce' s  class. 

An  objection  of  the  same  kind  may  perhaps  apply  to  the 
character  of  Ralph  Stackpole.  But  that,  we  beg  the  reader 
to  understand,  is  no  portrait  drawn  from  imagination.  The 


PREFACE.  V 

history  of  this  wild  scape-gallows,  his  prowess  in  the  pin- 
fold and  the  battlefield,  his  adventure  on  the  beech-tree, 
and  his  escape  from  the  meshes  of  the  law,  with  other  char- 
acteristic events  not  included  in  our  relation,  are  recollec- 
tions still  cherished  in  some  parts  of  Kentucky,  and  made 
the  theme  of  many  a  gleesome  story. 

The  story  of  Wandering  Nathan  has  a  similar  foundation 
in  truth ;  but  its  origin  belongs  to  one  of  the  western  coun- 
ties of  Pennsylvania. 

We  owe,  perhaps,  some  apology  for  the  hues  we  have 
thrown  around  the  Indian  portraits  in  our  picture — hues 
darker  than  are  usually  employed  by  the  painters  of  such 
figures.  But  we  confess,  the  North  American  savage  has 
never  appeared  to  us  the  gallant  and  heroic  personage  he 
seems  to  others.  The  single  fact  that  he  wages  war — sys- 
tematic war — upon  beings  incapable  of  resistance  or  defence 
— upon  women  and  children,  whom  all  other  races  in  the 
world,  no  matter  how  barbarous,  consent  to  spare,  has 
hitherto  been,  and  we  suppose  to  the  end  of  our  days  will 
remain,  a  stumbling-block  to  our  imagination ;  we  look  into 
the  woods  for  the  mighty  warrior,  the  "feather-cintured 
chief,"  rushing  to  meet  his  foe,  and  behold  him  retiring 
laden  with  the  scalps  of  miserable  squaws  and  their  babes. 
Heroical  ?  Hoc  verbum  quid  valeat,  non  vident. 


NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  world  was   all   before  them,   where   to   choose 
Their  place  of  rest,  and  Providence  their  guide: 
They,  hand  in  hand,  with  wandering  steps  and  slow, 
Through  Eden  took  their  solitary  way. 

— Paradise  Lost. 

IP  we  can  believe  the  immortal  poet  from  whom  we  have 
taken  the  ahove  lines,  to  serve  as  our  letter  of  introduction 
to  the  gentle  reader,  the  grief  of  our  first  parents  for  the 
loss  of  Paradise  was  not  so  deep  and  overwhelming  but  that 
they  almost  immediately  found  comfort,  when  they  re- 
flected they  had  exchanged  it  for  the  land  of  Eden — itself 
a  paradise,  though  an  earthly  and  unsanctified  one : 

"Some   natural   tears   they   dropt,   but   wiped   them   soon." 

The  Exiles  of  America,  who  first  forsook  their  homes  on 
the  borders  of  the  Atlantic  to  build  their  hearths  among 
the  deserts  of  the  West,  had  a  similar  consolation;  they 
were  bending  their  steps  towards  a  land  to  which  rumor 
at  first,  and  afterwards  the  reports  of  a  thousand  adven- 
turous visitants,  had  affixed  the  character  of  a  second  Ely- 
sium. The  Dorado  of  the  Spaniards,  with  its  cities  built 
of  gold,  its  highways  paved  with  diamonds  and  rubies,  was 
not  more  captivating  to  the  brains  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh 
and  his  fellow  freebooters  of  the  sixteenth  century,  than 
was  the  KENTUCKY  of  the  red  men,  with  its  fertile  fields 
and  ever-blooming  forests  to  the  imaginations  of  their  de- 
scendants two  hundred  years  after.  It  was  unnatural^  in- 


2  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

deed,  that  men  should  regard  as  an  Eden  the  land  in  which 
the  gallant  Daniel  Boone,  while  taking  his  "pleasing 
ramble"  on  the  22d  of  December,  1769,  discovered  "myriads 
of  trees,  some  gay  with  blossoms,  others  rich  with  fruits ;" 
which  blossoms  and  fruits,  as  he  tells  us,  were  "beautifully 
colored,  elegantly  shaped,  and  charmingly  flavored." 

It  might  be  difficult,  in  these  degenerate  days,  to  find 
fruits  and  flowers  adorning  any  forest  in  Kentucky  at 
Christmas;  yet  there  was  enough,  and  more  than  enough, 
in  the  wild  beauty  and  unexampled  fertility  of  the  coun- 
try, to  excuse  the  rapture  of  the  hunter,  and  to  warrant 
high  expectations  on  the  part  of  the  eastern  emigrants,  to 
whom  he  had  opened  a  path  through  the  wilderness,  which 
they  were  not  slow  to  follow.  A  strong  proof  of  the  real 
attractions  of  the  land  was  to  be  seen  in  the  crowds  rushing 
towards  it,  year  after  year,  regardless  of  all  adverse  cir- 
cumstances. Suffering  and  privation  of  all  kinds  were  to 
be  endured  on  the  long  and  savage  road,  in  which  mountain, 
river,  bog,  and  forest  were  to  be  passed,  and  often,  too,  in 
the  teeth  of  a  lurking  foe ;  while  peril  of  every  imaginable 
aspect  was  still  to  be  encountered,  when  the  journey  was  at 
an  end.  The  rich  fields, — the  hunting-grounds  of  a  dozen 
tribes  of  Indians, — to  be  possessed,  were  first  to  be  won, 
and  won  from  an  enemy  at  once  brave  and  cruel,  resolute 
and  wily,  who  had  shown  no  disposition  to  yield  them  ex- 
cept with  life,  and  who  had  already  stained  them  with  the 
best  blood  of  the  settler.  Such  evils  were  well  known  to 
exist;  but  tfyey  imposed  little  check  on  the  ardor  of  ad- 
venturers; the  tide  of  emigration,  at  first  a  little  rivulet, 
lost  among  forests,  increased  to  a  river,  the  river  grew  into 
a  flood,  overflowing  the  whole  land;  and  in  1792,  sixteen 
years  after  the  first  block-house  was  built  in  the  woods,  the 
"wilderness"  of  Kentucky  was  admitted  into  the  Federal 
Union,  a  free  and  sovereign  State,  with  a  population  of 
seventy-five  thousand  souls. 

Ten  years  before  that  happy  event — for  it  is  to  this 
early  period  we  must  ask  the  attention  of  the  reader — the 
Shawnee  and  the  Wyandot  still  hunted  the  bear  and 


NICK    OF   THE    WOODS.  3 

buffalo  in  the  cane-brake,  and  waylaid  the  settler  at  the 
gates  of  his  solitary  stronghold.  The  "District  of  Ken- 
tucky," then  within  the  territorial  jurisdiction  of  Vir- 
ginia, comprised  but  three  inhabited  counties,  Fayette, 
Jefferson,  and  Lincoln;  of  which,  to  play  the  geographer 
briefly,  we  need  only  say,  that  the  first  occupied  all  the 
country  north  and  east  of  the  Kentucky  river;  the  second 
aLl  the  region  west  of  that  river  as  far  as  Green  river,  which, 
with  the  redoubtable  Salt,  the  river  of  Eoarers,  formed  also 
its  southern  bounds;  while  the  third  extended  over  all 
the  territory  lying  south  of  the  two  other,  and  was  there- 
fore the  first  reached  by  emigrants  coming  from  Virginia 
and  the  Carolinas  through  the  Gap  of  the  Cumberlands. 
In  these  counties  the  settlements  were  already  somewhat 
numerous,  although  confined,  for  the  most  part,  to  the 
neighborhood  of  the  stations,  or  forts,  which  were  the  only 
effectual  places  of  refuge  for  the  husbandman  and  his 
family,  when  the  enemy  was  abroad  in  the  land.  These 
stations  were  mere  assemblages  of  huts,  sometimes  in  num- 
ber approaching  to  villages,  surrounded,  or  at  least  con- 
nected, hut  to  hut,  by  ranges  of  strong  palisades,  easily  de- 
fended against  assailants  armed  only  with  knives  and  rifles. 
Founded  in  the  first  place,  by  some  bold  and  resolute  pio- 
neer, each  station,  as  the  land  filled  with  settlers,  was  en- 
larged to  receive  other  inhabitants,  who  were  glad  to  unite 
with  the  founder  in  defending  from  attacks  a  place  so 
necessary  to  their  own  safety,  and  easily  conceded  him  a 
kind  of  military  authority  over  them,  which  was  usually 
confirmed  by  a  commission  from  the  State,  on  the  division 
of  the  district  into  counties,  and  exercised  with  the  mili-' 
tary  spirit,  on  all  proper  occasions. 

The  sun  of  an  August  afternoon,  1782,  was  yet  blazing 
upon  the  rude  palisades  and  equally  rude  cabins  of  one 
of  the  principal  stations  in  Lincoln  county,  when  a  long 
train  of  emigrants,  issuing  from  the  southern  forest,  wound 
its  way  over  the  clearings,  and  among  the  waving  maize 
fields  that  surrounded  the  settlement,  and  approached  the 
chief  gate  of  its  enclosure. 


4  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

The  party  was  numerous,  consisting  perhaps  of  seven  or 
eight  score  individuals  in  all,  men,  women,  and  children, 
the  last  bearing  that  proportion  to  the  others  in  point  of 
numbers  usually  found  in  a  borderer's  family;  and  thus, 
with  the  help  of  pack-horses,  cattle,  and  a  few  negroes,  the 
property  of  the  more  wealthy  emigrants,  scattered  here 
and  there  throughout  the  assemblage,  giving  to  the  whole 
train  the  appearance  of  an  army,  or  moving  village,  of 
Vandals  in  quest  of  some  new  home  to  be  won  with  the 
edge  of  the  sword.  Of  the  whole  number  there  were  at 
least  fifty  well  armed ;  some  of  these,  however,  being  strip- 
lings of  fourteen,  and,  in  one  or  two  instances,  even  of 
twelve,  who  balanced  the  big  rifle  on  their  shoulders,  or 
sustained  it  over  their  saddle  bows,  with  all  the  gravity 
and  dignity  of  grown  warriors;  while  some  few  of  the 
negroes  were  provided  with  the  same  formidable  weapons. 
In  fact,  the  dangers  of  the  journey  through  the  wilder- 
ness required  that  every  individual  of  a  party  should  be 
well  armed,  who  was  at  all  capable  of  bearing  arms;  and 
this  was  a  kind  of  capacity  which  necessity  instilled  into 
the  American  frontiersman  in  the  earliest  infancy. 

Of  this  armed  force,  such  as  it  was,  the  two  principal 
divisions,  all  well  mounted,  or  at  least  provided  with 
horses,  which  they  rode  or  not  as  the  humor  seized  them, 
were  distributed  in  military  order  on  the  front  and  in  the 
rear;  while  scouts  leading  in  the  van,  and  flanking-parties 
beating  the  woods  on  either  side,  where  the  nature  of  the 
country  permitted,  indicated  still  further  the  presence  of 
a  martial  spirit  on  the  part  of  the  leaders.  The  women 
and  children,  stowed  carefully  away  for  the  most  part, 
with  other  valuable  chattels,  on  the  backs  of  pack-horses, 
were  mingled  with  droves  of  cattle  in  the  centre,  many  of 
which  were  made  to  bear  burdens  as  well  as  the  horses. 
Of  wheeled  carriages  there  was  not  a  single  one  in  the 
whole  train,  the  difficulties  of  the  road,  which  was  a  mere 
bridle  path,  being  such  that  they  were  never,  at  that  early 
period,  attempted  to  be  brought  into  the  country,  unless 
when  conveyed  in  boats  down  the  Ohio. 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

Thus  marshalled,  and  emerging  from  the  depth  of  the 
forest  into  the  clearings  around  the  station,  there  was 
something  in  the  appearance  of  the  train,  wild,  singular 
and  striking.  The  tall  and  robust  frames  of  the  men, 
wrapped  in  blanket-coats  and  hunting-frocks, — some  of 
which,  where  the  wearers  were  young  and  of  gallant  tem- 
pers, were  profusely  decked  with  fringes  of  yellow,  green, 
and  scarlet;  the  gleam  of  their  weapons,  and  the  tramp  of 
their  horses,  gave  a  military  air  to  the  whole  typical,  it 
might  be  supposed,  of  the  sanguinary  struggle  by  which 
alone  the  desert  was  to  be  won  from  the  wandering  bar- 
barian; while  the  appearance  of  their  families,  with  their 
domestic  beasts,  and  the  implements  of  husbandry,  was  in 
harmony  with  what  might  be  supposed  the  future  destinies 
of  the  land,  when  peaceful  labor  should  succeed  to  the 
strife  of  conquest. 

The  exiles  were  already  in  the  heart  of  their  land  of 
promise,  and  many  within  view  of  the  haven  where  they 
were  to  end  their  wanderings.  Smiles  of  pleasure  lighted 
their  way-worn  countenances,  as  they  beheld  the  waving 
fields  of  maize  and  the  gleam  of  the  distant  cabins;  and 
their  satisfaction  was  still  further  increased,  when  the  peo- 
ple of  the  station,  catching  sight  of  them,  rushed  out, 
some  mounted  and  others  on  foot,  to  meet  them,  uttering 
loud  shouts  of  welcome,  such  as,  in  that  day,  greeted  every 
band  of  newcomers;  and  adding  to  the  clamor  of  the  re- 
ception a  feu-de-joie,  which  they  fired  in  honor  of  the  num- 
bers and  martial  appearance  of  the  present  company.  The 
salutation  was  requited,  and  the  stirring  hurrahs  returned 
by  the  travellers,  most  of  whom  pressed  forward  to  the 
van  in  disorder,  eager  to  take  part  in  the  merrymaking  ere 
it  was  over,  or,  perhaps,  to  seek  for  friends  who  had  pre- 
ceded them  in  the  journey  through  the  wilderness.  Such 
friends  were  in  many  instances  found,  and  their  loud  and 
affectionate  greetings  were  mingled  with  the  scarce  less 
cordial  welcomes  extended  by  the  colonists  even  to  the  un- 
known stranger.  Such  was  the  reception  of  the  emigrants 
at  that  period  and  in  that  country,  where  men  were  united 


tf  KICK    IF   THE    WOODS. 

together  by  a  sense  of  common  danger;  and  where  every 
armed  visitor,  besides  being  an  accession  to  the  strength  of 
the  colonists,  brought  with  him  such  news  of  absent  friends 
and  still  remembered  homes  as  was  sure  to  recommend  him 
to  favor. 

The  only  individual  who,  on  this  occasion  of  rejoicing, 
preserved  a  melancholy  countenance,  and  who,  instead  of 
riding  forward  like  the  others,  to  shake  hands  with  the 
people  of  the  station,  betrayed  an  inclination  to  avoid  their 
greeting  altogether,  was  a  young  man,  who,  from  the  posi- 
tion he  occupied  in  the  band,  and  from  other  causes,  was 
entitled  to  superior  attention.  With  the  rank  and  nomi- 
nal title  of  second  captain, — a  dignity  conferred  upon  him 
by  his  companions, — he  was,  in  reality  the  commander  of 
the  party,  the  ostensible  leader  being,  although  a  man  of 
good  repute  on  the  Virginia  border,  entirely  wanting  in  the 
military  reputation  and  skill  which  the  other  had  ac- 
quired in  the  armies  of  the  Eepublics,  and  of  which  the 
value  was  fully  appreciated,  when  danger  first  seemed  to 
threaten  the  exiles  on  their  march.  He  was  a  youth  of 
scarce  twenty-three  years  of  age;  but  five  of  those  years 
had  been  passed  in  camps  and  battles ;  and  the  labors,  pas- 
sions, and  privations  of  his  profession  had  antedated  the 
period  of  manhood.  A  frame  tall  and  athletic,  a  counte- 
nance which,  although  retaining  the  smoothness  and  fresh- 
ness of  youth,  was  yet  marked  with  the  manly  gravity  and 
decision  of  mature  life,  added,  in  appearance,  at  least  six 
years  to  his  age.  He  wore  a  hunting-frock  of  the  plainest 
green  color,  with  cap  and  leggings  of  leather,  such  as  were 
worn  by  many  of  the  poorest  or  least  pretending  exiles; 
like  whom  also  he  bore  a  rifle  on  his  shoulder,  with  the 
horn  and  other  equipments  of  a  hunter.  There  was  little, 
therefore,  to  distinguish  him,  at  the  first  view,  from  among 
his  companions;  although  his  erect  military  bearing,  and 
the  fine  blooded  bay  horse  which  he  rode,  would  have  won 
him  more  than  a  passing  look.  The  holsters  at  his  saddle- 
bow, and  the  sabre  at  his  side,  were  weapons  not  indeed  verj 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  7 

generally  worn  by  frontiersmen,  but  still  common  enough 
to  preserve  their  being  regarded  as  badges  of  rank. 

With  this  youthful  officer,  the  rear-guard,  which  he 
commanded,  having  deserted  him  to  press  forward  to  the 
van,  there  remained  only  three  persons,  two  of  whom  were 
negro  slaves,  both  mounted  and  armed,  who  followed  at  a 
little  distance  behind,  leading  thrice  their  number  of  pack- 
horses.  The  third  was  a  female,  who  rode  closely  at  his 
side,  the  rein  of  her  pony  being,  in  fact,  grasped  in  his 
hand;  though  he  looked  as  if  scarce  conscious  that  he  held 
it, — a  degree  of  insensibility  that  would  have  spoken  little 
in  his  favor  to  an  observer,  for  his  companion  was  both 
young  and  beautiful,  and  watched  his  moody  countenance 
on  her  part  with  looks  of  the  most  anxious  and  affectionate 
interest.  Her  riding  habit,  chosen  like  his  own  garments, 
with  more  regard  to  usefulness  than  beauty,  and  perhaps 
somewhat  the  worse  for  its  encounters  with  the  wind  and 
forest,  could  not  conceal  the  graceful  figure  it  defended; 
nor  had  the  sunbeam,  though  it  had  darkened  the  bright 
complexion  exposed  to  its  summer  fury,  during  a  journey 
of  more  than  six  weeks,  robbed  her  fair  visage  of  a  single 
charm.  There  was,  in  the  general  cast  of  features,  a  suffi- 
cient resemblance  between  the  two  to  indicate  near  re- 
lationship; although  it  was  plain  that  the  gloom  seated 
upon  the  brow  of  her  kinsman,  as  if  a  permanent  character- 
istic, was  an  unwelcome  and  unnatural  visitant  on  her 
own.  The  clear  blue  eye,  the  golden  locks  floating  over  her 
temples,  the  ruddy  cheek  and  lip  of  seventeen,  and,  gen- 
erally, the  frank  and  open  character  of  her  expression,  be- 
tokened a  spirit  too  joyous  and  elastic  to  indulge  in  those 
dark  anticipations  of  the  future  or  mournful  recollections 
of  the  past,  which  clouded  the  bosom  of  her  relative.  And 
it  was  well  for  her  that  such  was  the  cheerful  temper  of 
her  mind;  for,  from  her  whole  appearance,  it  was  mani- 
fest that  her  lot,  as  originally  cast,  must  have  been  among 
the  gentle,  the  refined,  and  the  luxurious,  and  that  she  was 
now,  for  the  first  time,  exposed  to  discomfort,  hardship, 
and  suffering,  among  companions,  who,  however  kind  in 


8  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

their  conduct,  were  unpolished  in  their  habits,  conversa- 
tion, and  feelings,  and  in  every  other  respect  unfitted  tfe 
be  her  associates. 

She  looked  upon  the  face  of  her  kinsman,  and  seeing 
that  it  grew  the  darker  and  gloomier  the  nearer  they  ap- 
proached the  scene  of  rejoicing,  she  laid  her  hand  upon  his 
arm,  and  murmured  softly  and  affectionately: 

"Koland, — cousin, — brother  ! — what  is  it  that  disturbs 
you  ?  Will  you  not  ride  forward,  and  salute  the  good  peo- 
ple that  are  making  us  welcome?" 

"Us  I'9  muttered  the  young  man  with  a  bitter  voice ;  "who 
is  there  on  earth,  Edith,  to  welcome  us?  Where  shall  we 
look  for  the  friends  and  kinsfolk,  that  the  meanest  of  the 
company  are  now  finding  among  yonder  noisy  barbarians  ?" 

"You  do  them  injustice,  Roland,"  said  the  maiden. 
"Yesternight  we  had  experience,  at  the  station  we  left, 
that  these  wild  people  of  the  woods  do  not  confine  their 
welcomes  to  kinsmen.  Kinder  and  more  hospitable  people 
do  not  exist  in  the  world." 

"It  is  not  that,  Edith,"  said  the  young  man;  "I  were 
but  a  brute  to  doubt  their  hospitality.  But  look,  Edith; 
we  are  in  Kentucky,  almost  at  our  place  of  refuge.  Yon- 
der hovels,  lowly,  mean,  and  wretched, — are  they  the  man- 
sions that  should  shelter  the  child  of  my  fathers  brother? 
Yonder  people,  the  outcasts  of  our  borders,  the  poor,  the 
rude,  the  savage, — but  one  degree  elevated  above  the  In- 
dians, with  whom  they  contend, — are  they  the  society  from 
whom  Edith  Forrester  should  choose  her  friends?" 

"They  are,"  said  Edith,  firmly;  "and  Edith  Forrester 
asks  none  better.  In  such  a  cabin  as  these, 'and,  if  need 
be,  in  one  still  more  humble,  she  is  content  to  pass  her  life, 
and  dream  that  she  is  still  in  the  house  of  her  fathers. 
From  such  people,  too,  she  will  choose  her  friends,  know- 
ing that  even  among  the  humblest  of  them  there  are  many 
worthy  of  her  regard  and  affection.  What  have  we  to 
mourn  in  the  world  we  have  left  behind  us?  We  are  the 
last  of  our  name  and  race ;  fortune  has  left  us  nothing  to 
regret.  My  only  relation  on  earth,  saving  yourself,  Ro- 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  '9 

land, — saving  yourself,  my  cousin,  my  brother," — her  lip 
quivered,  and,  for  a  moment,  her  eyes  were  filled  with 
tears, — "my  only  other  living  relation  resides  in  this  wil- 
derness-land;  and  she,  tenderly  nurtured  as  myself,  finds 
in  it  enough  to  engage  her  thoughts  and  secure  her  happi- 
ness. Why,  then,  should  not  I?  Why  should  not  you? 
Trust  me,  dear  Roland,  I  should  myself  be  as  happy  as  the 
day  is  long,  could  I  only  know  that  you  did  not  grieve  for 
me." 

"I  cannot  but  choose  it,"  said  Roland.  "It  is  to  me 
you  owe  the  loss  of  fortune  and  your  present  banishment 
from  the  world." 

"Say  not  so,  Roland,  for  it  is  not  true.  No !  I  never 
can  believe  that  our  poor  uncle  would  have  carried  his  re- 
sentment for  such  a  cause  so  far.  But  supposing  that  he 
could,  and  granting  that  all  were  as  you  say,  I  am  prouder 
to  be  the  poor  cousin  of  Roland  Forrester,  who  has  bled  in 
the  battles  of  his  country,  than  if  I  were  the  rich  and 
courted  kinswoman  of  one  who  had  betrayed  the  memory 
of  his  father." 

"You  are,  at  least,  an  angel,"  said  the  youth ;  "and  I  am 
but  a  villain  to  say  or  do  any  thing  to  give  you  pain.  Fare- 
well then  to  Fell-hollow,  to  old  James  River,  and  all !  If 
you  can  forget  these  things,  Edith,  so  will  I ;  at  all  events, 
I  will  try." 

"Now,"  said  Edith,  "you  talk  like  my  true  cousin." 

"Well,  Edith,  the  world  is  before  us;  and  shame  be 
upon  me,  if  I,  who  have  health,  strength,  and  youth  to 
back  my  ambition,  cannot  provide  you  a  refuge  and  a  home. 
I  will  leave  you  for  awhile  in  the  hands  of  this  good  aunt 
at  the  Falls;  and  then,  with  old  Emperor  there  for  my 
adjutant,  and  Sam  for  my  rank  and  file,  I  will  plunge  into 
the  forest,  and  scatter  it,  as  I  have  seen  a  band  of  tories 
scattered  by  my  old  major  (who,  by  the  bye,  is  only  three 
years  older  than  myself),  Henry  Lee,  not  many  years  back. 
Then,  when  I  have  built  me  a  house,  furrowed  my  acres 
with  my  martial  ploughshare  (for  to  that,  it  appears,  my 
sword  must  come),  and  reaped  my  harvest  with  my  own 


10  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

hands  (it  will  be  hard  work  to  beat  my  horse-pistols  into 
a  sickle),  then,  Edith " 

"Then,  Roland,"  said  the  maiden,  with  a  smile  and  a 
tear,  "if  you  should  still  remember  your  poor  cousin,  it 
will  not  be  hard  to  persuade  her  to  follow  you  to  your  re- 
treat, to  share  your  fortunes  of  good  and  of  evil,  and  to 
love  you  better  in  your  adversity  than  she  ever  expected  to 
love  you  in  your  prosperity." 

"Spoken  like  my  true  Edith!"  said  the  young  officer, 
whose  melancholy  fled  before  her  soft  accents,  as  the  evil 
spirit  of  Saul  before  the  tinklings  of  the  Jewish  harp, — 
"spoken  like  my  true  Edith,  for  whom  I  promise,  if  fate 
smile  upon  my  exertions,  to  rear  a  new  Fell -hollow  on  the 
banks  of  Ohio,  in  which  I  will  be,  myself,  the  first  to  for- 
get that  on  James  River.  And  now,  Edith,  let  us  ride  for- 
ward and  meet  yon  gay-looking  giant,  whom,  from  his 
bustling  demeanor,  and  fresh  jerkin,  I  judge  to  be  the 
commander  of  the  station,  the  redoubtable  Colonel  Bruce 
himself." 

As  he  spoke,  the  individual  thus  alluded  to,  separating 
himself  from  the  throng,  galloped  up  to  the  speaker,  and 
displayed  a  person  which  excited  the  envy  of  even  the 
manly-looking  Forrester.  He  was  a  man  of  at  least  fifty 
years,  but  as  hale  as  one  of  thirty,  without  a  single  grey 
hair  to  deform  the  beauty  of  his  raven  locks,  which  fell 
down  in  masses  nearly  to  his  shoulders.  His  stature  was 
colossal,  and  the  proportions  of  his  frame  as  just  as  they 
were  gigantic ;  so  that  there  was  much  in  his  appearance  of 
real  native  majesty.  Nothing,  in  fact,  could  be  well 
imagined  more  truly  striking  and  grand  than  his  appear- 
ance, as  seen  at  the  first  glance;  though  the  second  re- 
vealed a  lounging  indifference  of  carriage,  amounting,  at 
times,  to  something  like  awkwardness  and  uncouthness, 
which  a  little  detracted  from  the  effect.  Such  men  were 
ofttimes,  in  those  days,  sent  from  among  the  mountain 
counties  of  Virginia,  to  amaze  the  lesser  mortals  of  the 
plains,  who  regarded  them  as  the  genii  of  the  forest,  and 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

almost  looked,  as  was  said  of  the  victor  of  the  Kenhawa,* 
himself  of  the  race,  to  see  the  earth  tremble  beneath  their 
footsteps.  With  a  spirit  corresponding  to  his  frame,  he 
would  have  been  the  Nimrod,  or  Meleager,  that  he  seemed. 
But  nature  had  long  before  extinguished  the  race  of  demi- 
gods, and  the  worthy  commander  of  the  station  was  not 
of  them.  He  was  a  mortal  man,  distinguished  by  little, 
save  his  exterior,  from  other  mortal  men,  and  from  the 
crowd  of  settlers  who  had  followed  him  from  the  fortress. 
He  wore,  it  is  true,  a  new  and  jaunty  hunting-shirt  of 
dressed  deer-skin,  as  yellow  as  gold,  and  fringed  and  fur- 
belowed  with  shreds  of  the  same  substance,  dyed  as  red 
as  blood-root  could  make  them;  but  was  otherwise  to  the 
view  a  plain  yeoman,  endowed  with  those  gifts  of  mind 
only  which  were  necessary  to  his  station,  but  with  the 
virtues  which  are  alike  common  to  forest  and  city.  Cour- 
age and  hospitality,  however,  were  then  hardly  accounted 
virtues,  being  too  universal  to  be  distinguished  as  such; 
and  courtesy  was  equally  native  to  the  independent  bor- 
derer. 

He  shook  the  young  officer  heartily  by  the  hand,  a  cere- 
mony which  he  instantly  repeated  with  the  fair  Edith ;  and 
giving  them  to  understand  that  he  claimed  them  as  his 
own  especial  guests,  insisted,  with  much  honest  warmth, 
that  old  companionship  in  arms  with  one  of  their  late 
nearest  and  dearest  kinsmen  had  given  him  a  double  right 
to  do  so. 

"You  must  know,"  said  he,  "the  good  old  major,  your 
uncle,  the  brave  old  Major  Roly,  as  we  called  him,  Major 
Roland  Forrester; — well,  k'-yaptain, — well,  young  lady, — 
my  first  battle  war  foght  under  his  command,  and  an  ex- 
cellent commander  he  war.  It  war  on  the  bloody  Monon- 
gahela,  whar  the  Frenchmen  and  Injuns  trounced  us  so 
promiskous.  Perhaps  you've  h'ard  him  tell  of  Big  Tom 
Bruce,  for  so  they  called  me  then?  I  war  a  copporal  in 
the  first  company  of  Rangers  that  crossed  the  river.  Lord, 

*  Gen.  Andrew  Lewis. 


12  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

how  the  world  is  turning  upside  down !  I  war  a  copporal 
then,  and  now  I'm  a  k'-yunnel ;  a  greater  man  in  commis- 
sion than  war  ever  my  old  major ;  and  the  Lord  he  knows, 
I  thought  my  old  Major  Forrester  war  the  greatest  man  in 
all  Virginnie,  next  to  the  g'-yovernor,  and  K'-yunnel 
George  Washington !  Well,  you  must  know,  we  marched  up 
the  g'yully  that  runs  from  the  river,  and  bang  went  the 
savages'  g'yuns,  and  smash  went  their  hatchets;  and  then 
it  came  to  close  quarters,  a  regular  rough-and-tumble  hard 
scratch !  And  so  I  war  a-head  of  the  major,  and  the  major 
war  behind,  and  the  fight  had  made  him  as  ambitious*  as 
a  wild  cat,  and  he  war  hungry  for  a  shot;  and  so  says  he 
to  me,  for  I  war  right  afore  him,  'Git  out  of  my  way,  you 
damned  big  rascal,  till  I  git  a  crack  at  'em!'  And  so  I 
got  out  of  his  way,  for  I  were  mad  at  being  called  a  damned 
big  rascal,  especially  as  I  war  doing  my  best,  and  covering 
him  from  mischief  besides.  Well,  as  soon  as  I  jumped  out 
of  his  way,  bang  went  his  piece,  and  bang  went  another, 
let  fly  by  an  Injun; — down  went  the  major,  shot  right 
through  the  hips,  slam-bang.  And  so  said  I,  'Major,' — for 
I  warn't  well  over  my  passion, — 'if  you'd  'a'  taken  things 
easy,  I'd  'a'  stopped  that  slug  for  you.'  And  so  says  he, 
'Bang  away,  you  big  fool,  and  don't  stand  talking/  And 
so  he  swounded  away;  and  that  made  me  ambitious  too, 
and  I  killed  two  of  the  red  niggurs,  before  you  could  say 
Jack  Robinson,  just  by  way  of  satisfaction  for  the  major, 
and  then  I  helped  to  carry  him  off  to  the  tumbrels.  I 
never  see'd  my  old  major  from  that  day  to  this,  and  it  war 
only  a  month  ago  that  I  h'ard  of  his  death.  I  honor  his 
memory ;  and  so,  k'-yaptain,  you  see,  thar's  a  sort  of  claim 
to  old  friendship  between  us." 

To  this  characteristic  speech,  which  was  delivered  with 
great  earnestness,  Captain  Forrester  made  a  suitable  re- 
sponse; and  intimating  his  willingness  to  accept  the  prof- 
fered hospitality  of  his  uncle's  companion  in  arms,  he 
rode  forward  with  his  host  and  kinswoman  towards  the 

*  Ambitious, — in    Western   parlance,    vicious. 


NICK    OF   THE    WOODS. 

station,  of  which,  when  once  fairly  relieved  from  the 
forest,  he  had  a  clear  view. 

It  was  a  quadrangle  of  stout  pickets,  firmly  driven  into 
the  earth,  on  the  brow  of  a  knoll  of  very  gentle  ascent,  with 
a  strong,  though  low  block-house  at  each  corner,  and  was 
sufficiently  spacious  to  contain  a  double  row  of  cabins,  be- 
tween which  was  a  vacant  area,  as  well  as  two  others  be- 
twixt the  cabins  and  the  stockade,  and  thus  afforded  shelter 
not  only  for  its  defenders  and  their  families,  but  for  their 
cattle  and  horses,  which  were  always  driven  in,  if  possible, 
when  an  attack  was  apprehended.  A  sense  of  security, 
arising  from  increase  of  numbers,  and  the  absence  of  hos- 
tilities for  a  long  period,  had  begot  a  contempt  for  the  con- 
fined limits  of  the  stockade,  and  a  dozen  or  more  of  the 
settlers  had  built  their  cabins  without  the  enclosure,  on 
the  slope  of  the  hill,  which  had  now  assumed  the  appear- 
ance of  a  village,  though  one,  it  must  be  confessed,  of  ex- 
ceedingly rude  and  primitive  appearance.  The  houses 
were,  in  every  instance,  of  logs,  even  to  the  chimneys,  which 
being,  therefore,  of  a  combustible  temper,  notwithstanding 
the  goodly  daubing  of  clay  with  which  they  were  plastered, 
were  made  to  incline  outwards  from  the  perpendicular,  so 
as  to  be  detached  from  the  building  itself,  as  they  rose. 
By  this  arrangement  the  dangers  of  a  conflagration  were 
guarded  against;  for  when  the  burning  of  the  chimney 
involved,  as  doubtless  it  often  did,  the  wooden  materials  of 
the  chimney  itself,  it  was  easy  to  tear  it  down  before  the 
flames  communicated  to  the  cabin. 

Such  was  the  appearance  of  a  fortified  settlement,  at 
that  time  one  of  the  most  prominent  of  all  the  stations  in 
Kentucky;  and  when  we  repeat  that  the  forest  had  van- 
ished in  its  immediate  vicinity,  to  make  way  for  rich  fields 
of  corn, — that  divers  great  gaps  were,  at  a  distance,  seen 
in  its  massive  green  walls,  where  the  tall  oaks  and  walnuts, 
girdled  and  leafless,  but  not  yet  fallen,  admitted  the  sun- 
shine upon  other  crops  as  rich  and  as  verdant, — and  that 
all  beyond  and  around  was  a  dark  and  solemn  wilderness, 
the  tree-top  aloft,  and  the  cane  brake  below,  we  have  a 


14  NICK   OF   THE    WOODS. 

proper  idea  of  the  aspect  and  condition  of  the  /onely 
strongholds  which  succeeding  years  saw  changed  into 
towns  and  villages. 

The  station  seemed  unusually  populous,  as,  indeed,  it 
was;  but  Roland,  as  he  rode  by,  remarked,  on  the  skirts 
of  the  village,  a  dozen  or  more  shooting  targets  set  up  on 
the  green,  and  perceived  it  was  a  gala  day  which  had  drawn 
the  young  men  from  a  distance  to  the  fort.  This,  in  fact, 
he  was  speedily  told  by  a  youth,  whom  the  worthy  Bruce 
introduced  to  him  as  his  eldest  son  and  namesake,  "big 
Tom  Bruce,  the  third  of  that  name ;  the  other  two  Toms — 
for  two  others  he  had  had — having  been  killed  by  the 
Injuns,  and  he  having  changed  the  boy's  name,  that  he 
might  have  a  Tom  in  the  family/'  The  youth  was  worthy 
of  his  father,  being  full  six  feet  high,  though  scarcely  yet 
out  of  his  teens,  and  presented  a  visage  of  such  serene 
gravity  and  good-humored  simplicity,  as  won  the  affec- 
tions of  the  soldier  in  a  moment. 

"Thar's  a  boy  now,  the  brute,"  said  Colonel  Bruce,  send- 
ing him  off  to  assist  in  the  distribution  of  the  guests  among 
the  settlers,  "that  comes  of  the  best  stock  for  lov^  wo- 
men and  fighting  Injuns  in  all  Kentucky!  And  %o,  cap- 
tain, if  young  madam,  your  sister  h'yar,  is  for  picking  a 
husband  out  of  Kentuck,  I'll  say  it,  and  stand  to  it,  thar's 
not  a  better  lad  to  be  found  than  Tom  Bruce,  if  you  hunt 
the  district  all  over.  You'd  scarce  believe  it,  mom,"  he 
continued,  addressing  Edith  herself,  "but  the  young  brute 
did  actually  take  the  scalp  of  a  full-grown  Shawnee  be- 
fore he  war  fourteen  y'ar  old,  and  that  in  fa'r  fight,  whar 
thar  war  none  to  help  him.  The  way  of  it  war  this :  Tom 
war  out  in  the  range  looking  for  a  neighbor's  horse,  when, 
what  should  he  see  but  two  great  big  Shawnees  astride  of 
the  identicular  beast  he  war  hunting!  Away  went  Tom, 
and  away  went  the  bloody  villains  after,  one  of  'em  afoot, 
the  other  on  the  horse.  'Now/  said  Tom,  'this  won't  do, 
no  how ;'  and  so  he  let  fly  at  the  mounted  feller ;  but  being 
a  little  skeary,  as  how  could  he  help  it,  the  young  brute, 
being  the  first  time  he  ever  banged  at  an  Injun,  he  hit 


NICK    OP    THE    WOODS.  15 

the  horse,  which  dropped  down  in  a  flurry,  and  away  conies 
the  red  devil  over  his  head,  like  a  rocket,  eend  on  to  a 
sapling.  Up  jumps  Tom,  and  picks  up  the  Injun's  gun; 
and  bang  goes  the  other  Shawnee  at  him,  and  jumps  to  a 
tree.  'A  bird  in  the  hand/  said  Tom,  'is  worth  two  in  a 
bush;'  and  with  that  he  blows  out  the  first  feller's  brains, 
just  as  he  is  getting  up,  and  runs  into  the  fort,  hard  chased 
by  the  other.  And  then  to  see  the  feller,  when  I  asked 
him  why  he  didn't  shoot  the  Injun  that  had  fired  at  him, 
and  so  make  sure  of  both,  the  other  being  in  a  sort  of  a 
swound-like  from  the  tumble,  and  ready  to  be  knocked  on 
the  head  at  any  moment?  'Lord!'  said  Tom,  'I  never 
thought  of  it,  I  war  such  a  fool !'  and  with  that  he  blub- 
bered all  night,  to  think  he  had  not  killed  them  both.  How- 
somever,  I  war  always  of  opinion  that  what  he  had  done 
war  good  work  for  a  boy  of  fourteen.  But,  come  now,  my 
lovely  young  mom ;  we  are  entering  the  station.  May  you 
never  enter  a  house  where  you  are  less  welcome." 


CHAPTER  II. 

Their  talk,  of  course,  ran  most  on  the  new  comer. 

—  Don  Juan. 

The  devil  was  in  the  girl!     Could  it  be  pride? 
Or  modesty,  or  absence,  or  inanity? 
Heaven  knows! 

—Don  Juan. 


and  boys  had  rushed  from  the  fortress  together,  to 
greet  the  new  comers,  and  few  remained  save  the  women, 
of  whom  not  a  few,  particularly  of  the  younger  individuals, 
were  as  eager  to  satisfy  their  curiosity  as  their  fathers  and 
brothers.  The  disorderly  spirit  had  spread  even  among 
the  daughters  of  the  commandant,  to  the  great  concern  of 
his  spouse,  who,  although  originally  of  a  degree  somewhat 
humbler  even  than  his  own,  had  a  much  more  elevated 
sense  of  the  dignity  of  his  commission  as  a  colonel  of 


16  KICK    OF   THE 

militia,  and  a  due  consciousness  of  the  necessity  of  adapt- 
ing her  manners  to  her  rank.  She  stood  on  the  porch  of 
her  cabin,  which  had  the  merit  of  being  larger  than  any 
other  in  the  fort,  maintaining  order  among  some  half- 
dozen  or  more  lasses,  the  oldest  scarce  exceeding  seventeen, 
whom  she  endeavored  to  range  in  a  row,  to  receive  the  ex- 
pected guests  in  state,  though  every  moment  some  one  or 
other  might  be  seen  edging  away  from  her  side  as  if  in  the 
act  of  deserting  her  altogether. 

"Out  on  you,  you  flirting  critturs!"  said  she,  Tier  in- 
dignation provoked,  and  her  sense  of  propriety  shocked  by 
such  unworthy  behavior : — "Stop  thar,  you  Nell !  whar 
are  you  going?  You  Sally,  you  Phoebe,  you  Jane,  and 
the  rest  of  you !  ha'n't  you  no  better  idea  of  what's  manners 
for  a  cunnel's  daughters?  Fin  ashamed  of  you,  to  run 
ramping  and  tearing  after  the  strange  men  thar,  like  tom- 
boys, or  any  common  person's  daughters!  Laws!  do  re- 
member your  father's  a  cunnel  in  the  milishy,  and  set  down 
in  the  porch  here  on  the  bench,  like  genteel  young  ladies ; 
or  stand  up,  if  you  like  that  better,  and  wait  till  your 
father  Cunnel  Bruce,  that  is,  brings  up  the  captains;  one 
of  'em's  a  rale  army  captain,  with  epaulets  and  broad- 
sword, with  a  chance  of  money,  and  an  uncommon  hand- 
some sister, — rale  genteel  people  from  old  Virginnee:  and 
I'm  glad  of  it — it's  so  seldom  you  sees  any  body  but  com- 
mon persons  come  to  Kentucky.  Do  behave  yourselves; 
thar's  Telie  Doe  thar  at  the  loom  don't  think  so  much  as 
turning  her  eyes  around;  she's  a  pattern  for  you." 

"Law,  mother!"  said  the  eldest  of  the  daughters,  brid- 
Ming  with  disdain,  "I  reckon  I  know  how  to  behave  myself 
as  well  as  Telie  Doe,  or  any  other  girl  in  the  settlement ;" — 
a  declaration  echoed  and  re-echoed  by  her  sisters,  all  of 
whom  bent  their  eyes  towards  a  corner  of  the  ample  porch 
where,  busied  with  a  rude  loom,  fashioned  perhaps  by  the 
axe  and  knife  of  the  militia  colonel  himself,  on  which  she 
was  weaving  a  coarse  cloth  from  the  fibres  of  the  flax  nettle, 
sat  a  female  somewhat  younger  than  the  oldest  of  the  sis- 
ters* and  doubtless  of  a  more  humble  degree,  as  was  shown 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  17 

by  the  labor  in  which  she  was  engaged,  while  the  others 
seemed  to  enjoy  a  holiday,  and  by  her  coarse  brown  gar- 
ments, worn  at  a  moment  when  the  fair  Bruces  were  flaunt- 
ing in  their  best  bibs  and  tuckers,  the  same  having  been 
put  on  not  more  in  honor  of  the  exiles,  whose  coming  had 
been  announced  the  day  before,  than  out  of  compliment  to 
the  young  men  of  the  settlement,  who  were  wont  to  as- 
semble on  such  occasions  to  gather  the  latest  news  from  the 
States. 

The  pattern  of  good  manners  thus  referred  to,  was  as 
unconscious  of  the  compliment  bestowed  on  her  by  the 
worthy  Mrs.  Bruce  as  of  the  glances  of  disdain  it  drew 
from  the  daughters,  being  apparently  at  that  moment  too 
much  occupied  with  her  work  to  think  of  any  thing  else; 
nor  did  she  lift  up  her  eyes  until  the  conversation  having 
been  resumed  between  the  mother  and  daughters,  one  of 
the  latter  demanded,  "What  was  the  name  of  that  army 
captain  that  was  rich  and  great,  of  whom  her  mother  had 
been  talking?" 

"Captain  Eoland  Forrester,"  replied  the  latter;  at  the 
sound  of  which  name  the  maiden  at  the  loom  started  and 
looked  up  with  an  air  of  fright,  that  caused  exceeding  di- 
version among  the  others.  "Look  at  Telie  Doe!"  they 
cried,  laughing:  "you  can't  speak  above  your  breath  but 
she  thinks  you  are  speaking  to  her;  and  sure  you  can't 
speak  to  her  but  she  looks  as  if  she  would  jump  out  of  her 
skin  and  run  away  for  her  dear  life !" 

And  so,  indeed,  the  girl  did  appear  for  a  moment,  look- 
ing as  wild  and  terrified  as  the  animal  whose  name  she 
bore,  when  the  first  bay  of  the  deerhound  startles  her  in 
the  deep  woodland  pastures,  rolling  her  eyes,  catching  her 
breath  convulsively,  shivering,  and,  in  short,  betraying  a 
degree  of  agitation  that  would  have  appeared  unaccount- 
able to  a  stranger;  though,  as  it  caused  more  amusement 
than  surprise  among  the  merry  Bruces  it  was  but  fair  to 
suppose  that  it  sprung  from  constitutional  nervousness, 
or  the  sudden  interruption  of  her  meditations.  As  she 
started  up  in  her  confusion,  rolling  her  eyes  from  one 


18  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

laughing  maiden  to  another,  her  very  trepidation  imparted 
an  interest  to  her  features,  which  were  in  themselves  pretty 
enough,  though  not  so  much  as  to  attract  observation  when 
in  a  state  of  rest.  Then  it  was  the  observer  might  see,  or 
fancy  he  saw,  a  world  of  latent  expression  in  her  wild  dark 
eyes,  and  trace  the  workings  of  a  quick  and  sensitive  spirit, 
whose  existence  would  have  been  otherwise  unsuspected  in 
the  tremulous  movement  of  her  lips.  And  then,  too,  one 
might  have  been  struck  with  the  exquisite  contour  of  a 
slight  figure,  which  even  the  coarse  garments,  spun,  and 
perhaps  shaped,  by  her  own  hands,  could  not  entirely  con- 
ceal. At  such  times  of  excitement  there  was  something  in 
her  appearance  both  striking  and  singular, — Indian-like, 
one  might  almost  have  said.  Such  an  epithet  might  have 
been  borne  out  by  the  wildness  of  her  looks,  the  dark- 
ness of  her  eyes,  the  simple  arrangement  of  her  coal-black 
hair,  which,  instead  of  being  confined  by  comb  or  fillet,  was 
twisted  round  a  thorn  cut  from  the  nearest  locust  tree, 
and  by  the  smallness  of  her  stature;  though  the  lightness 
and  European  tinge  of  her  complexion  must  have  in- 
stantly disproved  the  idea. 

Her  discomposure  dispelled  from  the  bosoms  of  her 
companions  all  the  little  resentment  produced  by  the  ma- 
tron's invidious  comparison,  and  each  did  her  best  to  in- 
crease it  by  cries  of  "Jump,  Telie,  the  Indians  will  catch 
you!"  "Take  care,  Telie,  Tom  Bruce  will  kiss  you!" 
"Bun,  Telie,  the  dog  will  bite  you  I"  and  other  expressions 
of  a  like  alarming  nature,  which,  if  they  did  not  augment 
her  terror,  divided  and  distracted  her  attention,  till,  quite 
bewildered,  she  stared  now  on  one,  now  on  the  other,  and 
at  each  mischievous  assault  started  and  trembled,  and 
gasped  for  breath,  in  inexpressible  confusion.  It  was 
fortunate  for  her  that  this  species  of  baiting,  which,  from 
the  spirit  and  skill  with  which  her  youthful  tormentors 
pursued  it,  seemed  no  uncommon  infliction,  the  reforming 
mother  considered  to  be,  at  least  at  that  particular  mo- 
ment, unworthy  the  daughters  of  a  colonel  in  the  militia. 

"Do  behave  yourselves,  you  ungenteel  critturs,"  said 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

she!  "Phoebe  Bruce,  you're  old  enough  to  know  better; 
don't  expose  yourself  before  strangers.  Thar  they  come\ 
now ;  thar's  Gunnel  Bruce  that  is,  talking  to  Captain  For- 
rester that  is,  and  a  right-down  soldier-looking  captain  he 
is  too.  I  wonder  whar's  his  cocked  hat,  and  feather,  and 
gold  epaulets.  Thar's  his  big  broad-sword,  and — but  Lord, 
above  us,  arn't  his  sister  a  beauty !  any  man  in  Kentucky' 
will  be  proud  of  her;  but,  I  warrant  me,  she'll  take  to 
nothing  under  a  cunnel !" 

The  young  misses  ceased  their  sport  to  stare  at  the  stran- 
gers, and  even  Telie  Doe,  pattern  of  propriety  as  she  was, 
had  no  sooner  recovered  her  equanimity  than  she  turned 
her  eyes  from  the  loom  and  bent  them  eagerly  upon  the 
train  now  entering  through  the  main  gate,  gazing  long  and 
earnestly  upon  the  young  captain  and  the  fair  Edith,  who, 
with  the  colonel  of  militia,  and  a  fourth  individual,  parted 
from  it,  and  rode  up  to  the  porch.  The  fourth  person,  a 
sober  and  substantial-looking  borderer,  in  a  huge  blanket- 
coat  and  slouched  hat,  the  latter  stuck  round  with  buck's 
tails,  was  the  nominal  captain  of  the  party.  He  conversed 
a  moment  with  Forrester  and  the  commandant,  and  then, 
being  given  in  charge  by  the  latter  to  his  son  Tom,  who 
was  hallooed  from  the  crowd  for  this  purpose,  he  rode 
away,  leaving  the  colonel  to  do  the  honors  to  his  second 
in  command.  These  the  colonel  executed  with  much  cour- 
tesy and  gallantry,  if  not  with  grace,  leaping  from  his 
horse  with  unexpected  activity,  and  assisting  Edith  to  dis- 
mount, which  he  effected  by  taking  her  in  his  arms,  and 
whisking  her  from  the  saddle  with  as  little  apparent  effort 
as  though  he  were  handling  an  infant. 

"Welcome,  my  beautiful  young  lady,"  said  he,  giving 
her  another  hearty  shake  of  the  hand.  "H'yar's  a  house 
that  shall  shelter  you,  though  thar's  not  much  can  be  said 
of  it,  except  that  it  is  safe  and  wholesome.  H'yar's  my 
old  lady,  too,  and  my  daughters,  that  will  make  much  of 
you;  and  as  for  my  sons,  thar's  not  a  brute  of  'em  that 
won't  fight  for  you ;  but  th'  ar'  all  busy  stowing  away  the 
strangers,  and  I  reckon  they  think  it  arn't  manners  to 


20  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

show  themseives  to  a  young  lady  while  she's  making  ac- 
quaintance with  the  women." 

With  that  the  gallant  colonel  presented  the  fair  stranger 
to  his  wife  and  daughters,  the  latter  of  whom,  a  little 
daunted  at  first  by  her  appearance,  as  a  being  superior  in 
degree  to  the  ordinary  race  of  mortals,  but  quickly  re- 
assured by  her  frank  and  easy  deportment,  loaded  her  with 
caresses,  and  carried  her  into  the  house,  to  improve  the  few 
hours  allowed  to  make  her  acquaintance,  and  to  assist  her 
in  changing  her  apparel,  for  which  the  means  were  fur- 
nished from  sundry  bags  and  packages  that  the  elder  of 
the  two  negro-men,  the  only  immediate  followers  of  her 
kinsman,  took  from  the  back  of  a  pack-horse.  The 
mother  of  the  Bruces  thought  it  advisable  to  follow  them, 
to  see,  perhaps,  in  person  that  they  conducted  themselves 
towards  their  guest  as  a  colonel's  daughter  should. 

None  of  the  females  remained  on  the  porch  save  Telie, 
the  girl  of  the  loom,  who,  too  humble  or  too  timid  to  seek 
the  acquaintance  of  the  stranger  lady  like  the  others,  had 
been  overlooked  in  the  bustle,  and  now  pursued  her  labor 
with  but  little  notice  from  tiose  who  remained. 

"And  now,  colonel,"  said  the  young  officer,  declining 
the  offer  of  refreshments  made  by  his  host,  "allow  me,  like 
a  true  soldier,  to  proceed  to  the  business  with  which  you 
heard  our  commander,  Major  Johnson,  charge  me.     To- 
morrow we  resume  our  journey  to  the  Falls.     I  should 
gladly  myself,  for  Miss  Forrester's  sake,  consent  to  remain 
with  you  a  few  days,  to  recruit  our  strength  a  little.     But 
f  that  cannot  be.     Our  men  are  resolved  to  push  on  without 
delay;  and,  as  I  have  no  authority  to  restrain  them,  I 
»must  e'en  accompany  them." 

"Well,"  said  Colonel  Bruce,  "if  it  must  be,  it  must,  and 
I'm  not  the  brute  to  say  no  to  you.  But,  lord,  captain,  I 
should  be  glad  to  have  you  stay  a  month  or  two,  war  it  only 
to  have  a  long  talk  about  my  old  friend,  the  brave  old 
major.  And  thar's  your  sister,  captain, — lord,  sir,  she 
would  be  the  pet  of  the  family,  and  would  help  my  wife 
teach  the  girls  manners.  Lord!"  he  continued,  laughing. 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  21 

"you've  no  idea  what  grand  notions  have  got  into  the  old 
woman's  head  about  the  way  of  behaving  ever  since  it  war 
that  the  Governor  of  Virginnie  sent  me  a  Gunnel's  commis- 
sion. She  thinks  I  ought  to  w'ar  a  cocked  hat  and  gold 
swabs,  and  put  on  a  blue  coat  instead  of  a  leather  shirt; 
but  I  wonder  how  soon  I'd  see  the  end  of  it,  out  h'yar  in 
the  bushes?  And  then,  as  for  the  girls,  why  thar's  no 
end  of  the  lessons  she  gives  them; — and  thar's  my  Jenny 
—that's  the  youngest — came  blubbering  up  the  other  day, 
saying,  'she  believed  mother  intended  even  to  stop  their 
licking  at  the  sugar-troughs,  she  was  getting  so  great  and 
so  proud !'  Howsomever,  women  will  be  women,  and  thar's 
the  end  of  it." 

To  this  philosophic  remark  the  officer  of  inferior  degree 
bowed  acquiescence,  and  recalling  his  host's  attention  to 
the  subject  of  most  interest  to  himself,  requested  to  be  in- 
formed what  difficulties  or  dangers  might  be  apprehended 
on  the  further  route  to  the  Falls  of  Ohio. 

"Why,  none  on  'arth  that  I  know  of,"  said  Bruce ;  "you've 
as  cl'ar  and  broad  a  trace  before  you  as  man  and  beast 
could  make — a  buffalo-street*  through  the  canes;  and, 
when  thar's  open  woods,  blazes  as  thick  as  stars,  and  horse- 
tracks  still  thicker :  thar  war  more  than  a  thousand  settlers 
have  travelled  it  this  year  already.  As  for  dangers,  cap- 
tain, why  I  reckon  thar's  none  to  think  on.  Thar  war  a 
good  chance  of  whooping  and  howling  about  Bear's  Grass 
last  year,  and  some  hard  fighting;  but  I  h'ar  nothing  of 
Injuns  thar  this  y'ar.  But  you  leave  some  of  your  people 
h'yar;  what  force  do  you  tote  down  to  the  Falls  to-mor- 
row?" 

"Twenty-seven  guns  in  all;  but  several  quite  too  young 
to  face  an  enemy." 

"Thar's  no  trusting  to  y'ars  in  a  matter  of  fighting!" 
said  the  Kentuckian;  "thar's  my  son  Tom,  that  killed  his 
brute  at  fourteen;  but,  I  remember,  I  told  you  that  story. 
Howsomever,  I  hold  thar's  no  Injuns  on  the  road;  and  if 

*  The  bison-paths,  when  very  broad   were  often  thus  called. 


%2  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

you  should  meet  any,  why,  it  will  be  down  ahout  Bear's 
Grass,  or  the  Forks  of  Salt,  whar  you  can  keep  your  eyes 
open,  and  whar  the  settlements  are  so  thick,  it  is  easy 
taking  cover.  No,  no,  captain,  the  fighting  this  year  is 
all  on  the  north  side  of  Kentucky." 

"Yet  I  believe,"  said    Roland,  "there    have    been    no 
troubles  there  since  the  defeat  of  Captain  Estill  on  Little' 
Mountain,  and  of  Holder  at  that  place — what  do  you  call 
it?" 

"Upper  Blue  Licks  of  Licking,"  said  Bruce ;  "and  warn't 
they  troubles  enough  for  a  season?  Two  Kentucky  cap- 
tains, and  one  of  them  a  south-side  man,  too,  whipped  in 
f  a'r  fight,  and  by  nothing  better  than  brutish  Injuns !" 

"They  were  sad  affairs,  indeed;  and  the  numbers  of 
white  men  murdered  made  them  still  more  shocking." 

"The  murdering,"  said  the  gallant  Colonel  Bruce,  "is 
nothing,  sir;  it  is  the  shame  of  the  thumping  that  makes 
one  feel  ambitious;  thar's  the  thing  no  Kentuckian  can 
stand,  sir.  To  be  murdered,  whar  thar's  ten  Injuns  to 
one  white  man  is  nothing;  but  whar  it  comes  to  being 
trounced  by  equal  numbers,  why  thar's  the  thing  not  to 
be  tolerated.  Howsomever,  captain,  we're  no  worse  off  in 
Kentucky  than  our  neighbors.  Thar's  them  five  hundred 
Pennsylvanians  that  went  out  in  June  under  old  Gunnel 
Crawford  from  Pittsburg,  agin  the  brutes  of  Sandusky, 
war  more  ridiculously  whipped  by  old  Captain  Pipe,  the 
Delaware,  there's  no  denying." 

'What!"  said  Roland,  "was  Crawford's  company 
beaten?" 

"Beaten !"  said  the  Kentuckian,  opening  his  eyes ;  "cut 
off  the  6,  and  say  the  savages  made  a  dinner  of  'em,  and 
you'll  be  nearer  the  true  history  of  the  matter.  It's  but 
two  months  ago,  and  so  I  suppose  the  news  of  the  affa'r 
hadn't  got  into  East  Virginnie  when  you  started.  Well, 
captain,  the  long  and  short  of  it  is, — the  cunnel  war  beaten 
and  exterminated,  and  that  on  a  hard  run  from  the  fight 
he  had  hunted  hard  after.  How  many  ever  got  back  safe 
again  to  Pittsburg  I  never  could  rightly  h'ar;  but  what  I 


NICK   OF    THE    WOODS.  23 

know  is,  that  thar  war  dozens  of  prisoners  beaten  to  death 
by  the  squaws  and  children,  and  that  old  Gunnel  Craw- 
ford himself  war  put  to  the  double  torture,  and  roasted 
alive,  and,  I  reckon,  if  he  warn't  eaten,  it  war  only  because 
he  war  too  old  to  be  tender." 

"Horrible!"  said  the  young  soldier,  muttering  half  to 
himself,  though  not  in  tones  so  low  but  that  the  Ken- 
tuckian  caught  their  import,  "and  I  must  expose  my  poor 
Edith  to  fall  into  the  power  of  such  fiends  and  monsters." 

"Ay,  captain,"  said  Bruce,  "thar's  the  thing  that  sticks 
most  in  the  heart  of  them  that  live  in  the  wilderness,  and 
have  wives  and  daughters; — to  think  of  their  falling  into 
the  hands  of  the  brutes,  who  murder  and  scalp  a  woman 
just  as  readily  as  a  man.  As  to  their  torturing  them,  that's 
not  so  certain,  but  the  brutes  are  n't  a  bit  too  good  for  it ; 
and  I  did  h'ar  of  their  burning  one  poor  woman  at  San- 
dusky.*  But  now,  captain,  if  you  are  anxious  to  have  the 
young  lady,  your  sister,  in  safety,  h'yar's  the  place  to  stick 
up  your  tent-poles,  h'yar  in  this  very  settlement,  whar  the 
Injuns  never  trouble  us,  never  coming  within  ten  miles  of 
us.  Thar's  as  good  land  here  as  on  Bear's  Grass,  and  we 
shall  be  glad  of  your  company.  It  is  not  often  we  have  a 
rich  man  to  take  luck  among  us.  Howsomever,  I  won't 
deceive  you  if  you  will  go  to  the  Ohio ;  I  hold  thar's  no  dan- 
ger on  the  trace  for  either  man  or  woman." 

"My  good  friend,"  said  Roland,  "you  seem  to  labor  under 
two  errors  in  respect  to  me,  which  it  is  fitting  I  should 
correct.  In  the  first  place,  the  lady  whom  you  have  sev- 
eral times  called,  I  know  not  why,  my  sister,  claims  no 
such  near  relationship,  being  only  my  cousin." 

"Why,  sure!"  said  the  colonel,  "some  one  told  me  so, 
and  thar's  a  strong  family  likeness." 

"There  should  be,"  said  the  youth,  "since  our  fathers 


*  The  worthy  Kentuckian  was,  perhaps,  mistaken.  A  female 
captive  from  Pittsburg  was,  however,  actually  bound  to  the 
stake  near  the  Sandusky  villages,  and  rescued  with  difficulty 
by  British  traders.  But  this  happened  in  1790,  eight  years 
after  the  date  of  our  story. 


24  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

were  twin  brothers,  and  resembled  each  other  in  all  par- 
ticulars in  body,  in  mind,  and,  as  I  may  say,  in  fortune. 
They  were  alike  in  their  lives,  alike  also  in  their  deaths; 
they  fell  together,  struck  down  by  the  same  cannon-ball  at 
the  bombardment  of  Norfolk,  seven  years  ago." 

"May  I  never  see  a  scalp,"  said  the  Kentuckian,  warmly 
grasping  the  young  man's  hands,  "if  I  don't  honor  you  the 
more  for  boasting  such  a  father  and  such  uncles !  You 
come  of  the  true  stock,  captain,  thar's  no  denying,  and  my 
brave  old  major's  estates  have  fallen  into  the  right  hands ; 
for,  if  thar's  any  believing  the  news  the  last  band  of  emi- 
grants brought  of  you  here,  thar  war  no  braver  officer  in 
Lee's  corps,  nor  in  the  whole  Virginnie  line,  than  young 
Captain  Forrester." 

"Here,"  said  Eoland,  looking  as  if  what  he  said  cost 
him  a  painful  effort,  "lies  the  second  error, — your  con- 
sidering me,  as  you  manifestly  do,  the  heir  of  your  old 
major,  my  uncle  Koland,  which  I  am  not." 

"Lord !"  said  the  worthy  Bruce,  "he  war  the  richest  man 
in  Prince  George,  and  he  had  thousands  of  fat  acres  in  the 
valley,  the  best  in  all  Fincastle,  as  I  know  very  well,  for  I 
war  a  Fincastleman  myself ;  thar  war  my  old  friend  Brax- 
ley — he  war  a  lieutenant  under  the  major  at  Braddock's, 
and  afterwards  his  steward  and  manager,  and  lawyer-like, 
who  used  to  come  over  the  Eidge  to  see  after  them.  But 
I  see  how  it  is — he  left  all  to  the  young  lady  ?" 

"Not  an  acre,"  said  Eoland. 

"What !"  said  the  Kentuckian,  "he  left  no  children  of  his 
own.  Who  then  is  the  heir?" 

"Your  old  friend,  as  you  called  him,  Eichard  Braxley. 
And  hence  you  see,"  continued  the  youth,  as  if  desirous  to 
change  the  conversation,  "that  I  come  to  Kentucky,  an  ad- 
venturer and  fortune-hunter,  like  other  emigrants,  to  lo- 
cate lands  under  proclamation  warrants  and  bounty-grants, 
to  fell  trees,  raise  corn,  shoot  bisons  and  Indians,  and,  in 
general,  to  do  anything  else  that  can  be  required  of  a  good 
Virginian  or  good  Kentuckian." 

It  was  evidently  the  captain's  wish  now  to  leave  alto- 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  25 

gether  the  subject  on  which  he  had  thought  it  incumbent  to 
acquaint  his  host  with  so  much ;  but  the  worthy  Bruce  was 
not  so  easily  satisfied,  and  not  conceiving  there  was  any 
peculiar  impropriety  in  indulging  curiosity  in  matters  re- 
lating to  his  old  major,  however  distasteful  that  curiosity 
might  prove  to  his  guest,  he  succeeded  in  drawing  from  the 
reluctant  young  man  many  more  particulars  of  his  story, 
which,  as  they  have  an  important  connection  with  the 
events  it  is  our  object  to  narrate,  we  must  be  pardoned' 
for  briefly  noticing. 

Major  Eoland  Forrester,  the  uncle  and  godfather  of  the 
young  soldier,  and  the  representative  of  one  of  the  most 
ancient  and  affluent  families  on  James  Eiver  (for  by  this 
trivial  name  Virginians  are  content  to  designate  the  noble 
Powhatan),  was  the  eldest  of  three  brothers,  of  whom  the 
two  younger,  as  was  often  the  case  under  the  ancient 
regime  in  Virginia,  were  left,  at  the  death  of  their  parent, 
to  shift  for  themselves,  while  the  eldest  son  inherited  the 
undivided  princely  estate  of  his  ancestors.  This  was  at 
the  period  when  that  contest  of  principle  with  power,  which 
finally  resulted  in  the  separation  of  the  American  colonies 
from  the  parent  State,  first  began  to  agitate  the  minds 
of  the  good  planters  of  Virginia,  in  common  with  the 
people  of  all  the  other  colonies.  Men  had  already  begun 
to  take  sides,  in  feeling,  as  in  argument ;  and,  as  usual,  in- 
terest had,  no  doubt,  its  full  share  in  directing  and  con- 
firming the  predilections  of  individuals. 

These  circumstances,  the  regular  succession  of  the  eldest 
born  to  the  paternal  estate,  and  the  necessity  imposed  on 
the  others  of  carving  out  their  own  fortunes,  had,  perhaps, 
their  influence  in  determining  the  political  bias  of  the 
brothers,  and  preparing  them  for  contention,  when  the 
increase  of  party  feeling,  and  the  clash  of  interests  be- 
tween the  government  abroad  and  the  colonies  at  home, 
called  upon  all  men  to  avow  their  principles  and  take 
their  stands.  It  was  as  natural  that  the  one  should  retain 
affection  and  reverence  for  the  institutions  which  had  made 
him  rich  and  distinguished,  as  that  the  younger  brothers, 


6  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

who  had  suffered  under  them  a  deprivation  of  their  natural 
rights,  should  declare  for  a  system  of  government  and  laws 
more  liberal  and  equitable  in  their  character  and  opera- 
tion. 

At  all  events,  and  be  the  cause  of  difference  what  it 
might,  when  the  storm  of  the  revolution  burst  over  the 
land,  the  brothers  were  found  arrayed  on  opposite  sides, 
the  two  younger,  the  fathers  of  Koland  and  Edith,  in- 
stantly taking  up  arms  in  the  popular  cause,  while  noth- 
ing, perhaps,  but  helpless  feebleness  and  bodily  infirmities, 
the  results  of  wounds  received  in  Braddock's  war,  through- 
out which  he  had  fought  at  the  head  of  a  battalion  of 
"Buckskins,"  or  Virginia  Rangers,  prevented  the  elder 
brother  from  arming  as  zealously  in  the  cause  of  his  king. 
Fierce,  uncompromising,  and  vindictive,  however,  in  his 
temper,  he  never  forgave  his  brothers  the  bold  and  active 
part  they  both  took  in  the  contest;  and  it  was  his  resent- 
ment, perhaps,  more  than  natural  affection  for  his  neg- 
lected offspring,  that  caused  him  to  defeat  his  brothers' 
hopes  of  succession  to  his  estates  (he  being  himself  unmar- 
ried), by  executing  a  will  in  favor  of  an  illegitimate 
child,  an  infant  daughter,  whom  he  drew  from  conceal- 
ment, and  acknowledged  as  his  offspring.  This  child, 
however,  was  soon  removed,  having  been  burned  to  death 
in  the  house  of  its  foster-mother.  But  its  decease  effected 
little  or  no  change  in  his  feelings  towards  his  brothers, 
who,  pursuing  the  principles  they  had  so  early  avowed, 
were  among  the  first  to  take  arms  among  the  patriots  of 
Virginia,  and  fell,  as  Eoland  had  said,  at  Norfolk,  leaving 
each  an  orphan  child,  Roland  then  a  youth  of  fifteen,  and 
Edith  a  child  of  ten,  to  the  mercy  of  the  elder  brother. 

Their  death  effected  what  perhaps  their  prayers  never 
would  have  done.  The  stern  loyalist  took  the  orphans  to 
his  bosom,  cherished  and  loved  them,  or  at  least  appeared 
to  do  so,  and  often  avowed  his  intention  to  mako  them  his 
heirs.  But  it  was  Roland's  ill  fate  to  provoke  his  ire,  as 
Roland's  father  had  done  before  him.  The  death  of  that 
father,  one  of  the  earliest  martyrs  to  liberty,  had  created 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  %1 

in  his  youthful  mind  a  strong  abhorrence  of  every  thing 
British  and  loyal;  and  after  presuming  a  dozen  times  or 
more  to  disclose  and  defend  his  hatred,  he  put  the  coping- 
stone  to  his  audacity  by  suddenly  leaving  his  uncle's  house 
two  years  after  he  had  been  received  into  it,  and  galloping 
away,  a  cornet  in  one  of  the  companies  of  the  first  regi- 
ment of  horse  which  Virginia  sent  to  the  armies  of  Con- 
gress. 

He  never  more  saw  his  uncle.  He  cared  little  for  his 
wrath,  or  its  effects;  if  disinherited  himself,  it  pleased  his 
imagination  to  think  he  had  enriched  his  gentle  cousin. 
But  his  uncle  carried  his  resentment  further  than  he  had 
dreamed,  or  indeed  any  one  else  who  had  beheld  the  show 
of  affection  he  continued  to  the  orphan  Edith  up  to  the 
last  moment  of  his  existence.  He  died  in  Occober  of  the 
preceding  year,  a  week  before  the  capitulation  at  York- 
town,  and  almost  within  the  sound  of  the  guns  that  pro- 
claimed the  fall  of  the  cause  he  had  so  loyally  espoused. 
From  this  place  of  victory  Eoland  departed  to  seek  his 
kinswoman.  He  found  her  in  the  house, — not  of  his 
fathers,  but  of  a  stranger, — herself  a  destitute  and  home- 
less orphan.  No  will  appeared  to  pronounce  her  the  mis- 
tress of  the  wealth  he  had  himself  rejected;  but,  in  place 
of  it,  the  original  testament  in  favor  of  Major  Forrester's 
own  child  was  produced  by  Braxley,  his  confidential  friend 
and  attorney,  who,  by  it  was  appointed  both  executor  of  the 
estate  and  trustee  to  the  individual  in  whose  favor  it  was 
constructed. 

The  production  of  such  a  testament  so  many  years  after 
the  death  of  the  girl,  caused  no  little  astonishment;  but 
this  was  still  further  increased  by  what  followed,  the  afore- 
said Braxley  instantly  taking  possession  of  the  whole  estate 
in  the  name  of  the  heiress,  who,  he  made  formal  deposition, 
was,  to  the  best  of  his  belief,  yet  alive,  and  would  appear 
to  claim  her  inheritance.  In  support  of  this  extraordinary 
averment,  he  produced,  or  professed  himself  ready  to  pro- 
duce, evidence  to  show  that  Forrester's  child,  instead  of 
being  burned  to  death,  as  was  believed,  had  actually  been 


28  NICK   OP   THE   WOODS. 

trepanned  and  carried  away  by  persons  to  him  unknown, 
the  burning  of  the  house  of  her  foster-mother  having  been 
devised  and  executed  merely  to  give  color  to  the  story  of 
her  death.  Who  were  the  perpetrators  of  such  an  outrage, 
and  for  what  purpose  it  had  been  devised,  he  affected  to  be 
ignorant,  though  he  threw  out  many  hints  and  surmises  of 
a  character  more  painful  to  Edith  and  Eoland  than  even 
the  loss  of  the  property.  These  hints  Eoland  could  not 
persuade  himself  to  repeat  to  the  curious  Kentuckian,  since 
they  went,  in  fact,  to  charge  his  own  father  and  Edith's 
with  the  crime  of  having  themselves  concealed  the  child 
for  the  purpose  of  removing  the  only  bar  to  their  expec- 
tations of  succession. 

Whatever  might  be  thought  of  this  singular  story,  it 
gained  some  believers,  and  was  enough  in  the  hands  of 
Braxley,  a  man  of  great  address  and  resolution,  and  withal 
a  lawyer,  to  enable  him  to  laugh  to  scorn  the  feeble  efforts 
made  by  the  impoverished  Eoland  to  bring  it  to  the  test  of 
legal  arbitrament.  Despairing,  in  fact,  of  his  cause,  after 
a  few  trials  had  convinced  him  of  his  impotence,  and  per- 
haps himself  almost  believing  the  tale  to  be  true,  the  young 
man  gave  up  the  contest,  and  directed  his  thoughts  to  the 
condition  of  his  cousin  Edith;  who,  upon  the  above  cir- 
cumstances being  made  known,  had  received  a  warm  invita- 
tion to  the  house  and  protection  of  her  only  female  relative, 
a  married  lady,  whose  husband  had  two  years  before  emi- 
grated to  the  Falls  of  Ohio,  where  he  was  now  a  person  of 
considerable  importance. 

This  invitation  determined  the  course  to  be  pursued. 
The  young  man  instantly  resigned  his  commission,  and 
converting  the  little  property  that  remained  into  articles 
necessary  to  the  emigrant,  turned  his  face  to  the  boundless 
West,  and  with  his  helpless  kinswoman  at  his  side,  plunged 
at  once  into  the  forest.  A  home  for  Edith  in  the  house  of 
a  relative  was  the  first  object  of  his  desires;  his  second,  as 
he  had  already  mentioned,  was  to  lay  the  foundation  for 
the  fortunes  of  both,  by  locating  lands  on  proclamation- 
warrants,  as  they  were  called  (being  grants  of  western 


NICK    OP   THE    WOODS.  29 

lands  made  to  the  colonists  who  had  served  the  Crown  in 
the  provincial  French  wars),  which  the  two  had  inherited 
from  their  fathers,  besides  the  bounty-grants  earned  by 
himself  in  virtue  of  military  service  rendered  in  the  army 
of  his  native  State. 

There  was  something  in  the  condition  of  the  young  and 
almost  friendless  adventurers  to  interest  the  feelings  of 
the  hardy  Kentuckian,  but  they  were  affected  still  more 
strongly  by  the  generous  self-sacrifice,  as  it  might  be 
called,  which  the  young  soldier  was  evidently  making  for 
his  kinswoman,  for  whom  he  had  given  up  an  honorable 
profession,  and  his  hopes  of  fame  and  distinction,  to  live 
a  life  of  inglorious  toil  in  the  desert.  He  gave  the  youth 
another  energetic  grasp  of  hand,  and  said,  with  uncommon 
emphasis : 

"Hark'ee,  captain,  my  lad,  I  love  and  honor  ye;  and  I 
could  say  no  more  if  you  war  my  own  natteral  born  father ! 
As  to  that  'ar*  Eichard  Braxley,  whom  I  call'd  my  old 
friend,  you  must  know,  it  war  an  old  custom  I  have  of 
calling  a  man  a  friend  who  war  only  an  acquaintance ;  for 
I  am  for  being  friendly  to  all  men  that  are  white  and 
honest,  and  no  Injuns.  Now,  I  do  hold  that  Braxley  to 
be  a  rascal, — a  precocious  rascal,  sir !  and  I  rather  reckon 
thar  war  lying  and  villany  at  the  bottom  of  that  will,  and 
I  hope  you'll  live  to  see  the  truth  of  it." 

The  sympathy  felt  by  the  Kentuckian  in  the  story  was 
experienced  in  a  still  stronger  degree  by  Telie  Doe,  the 
girl  of  the  loom,  who,  little  noticed,  if  at  all,  by  the  two, 
sat  apparently  occupied  with  her  work,  yet  drinking  in 
every  word  uttered  by  the  young  soldier  with  a  deep  and 
eager  interest,  until  Eoland,  by  chance  looking  round,  be- 
held her  large  eyes  fastened  upon  him  with  a  wild,  sorrow- 
ful look,  of  which,  however,  she  herself  seemed  quite  un- 
conscious, that  greatly  surprised  him.  The  Kentuckian, 
observing  her  at  the  same  time,  called  to  her, — <rWhat, 
Telie,  my  girl,  are  you  working  upon  a  holiday?  You 
should  be  dressed  like  the  others,  and  making  friends  with 
the  stranger  lady.  And  so  git  away  with  you  now,  and 


30  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

make  yourself  handsome,  and  don't  stand  thar  looking  as 
if  the  gentleman  would  eat  you." 

Upon  being  thus  accosted,  the  girl  exhibited  much  of  the 
same  terror  and  flurry  of  spirits  that  she  had  shown  on  a 
previous  occasion;  but  obeying  the  order  at  last,  she  left 
the  porch  and  stole  timorously  into  the  house. 

"A  qu'ar  crittur  she,  poor  thing !"  said  Bruce,  looking 
after  her  commiseratingly,  "and  a  stranger  might  think 
her  no  wore  nor  half-witted.  But  she  has  sense  enough, 
poor  crittur !  and,  I  reckon,  is  just  as  smart  if  she  war  not 
so  humble  and  skittish  as  any  of  my  own  daughters." 

"What,"  said  Eoland,  "is  she  not  then  your  child?" 

"No,  no,"  replied  Bruce,  shaking  his  head,  "a  poor 
crittur  of  no  manner  of  kin  whatever.  Her  father  war  an 
old  friend  or  acquaintance-like;  for,  rat  it,  I  won't  own 
friendship  for  any  such  apostatized  villains,  no  how;  but 
the  man  whar  taken  by  the  Shawnees ;  and  so  as  thar  war 
none  to  befriend  her,  and  she  war  but  a  little  chit  no 
bigger  nor  my  hand,  I  took  to  her  myself  and  raised  her. 
But  the  worst  of  it  is,  and  that's  what  makes  her  so  wild 
and  skeary,  her  father,  Abel  Doe,  turned  Injun  himself, 
like  Girty,  Elliot,  and  the  rest  of  them  refugee  scoundrels 
you've  h'ard  of.  Now  that's  enough,  you  see,  to  make  the 
poor  thing  sad  and  frightful;  for  Abel  Doe  is  a  rogue, 
thar's  no  denying,  and  every  body  hates  and  cusses  him,  as 
is  but  his  due;  and  it's  natteral,  now  she's  growing  old 
enough  to  be  ashamed  of  him,  she  should  be  ashamed  of 
herself  too, — though  thar's  nothing  but  her  father  to 
charge  against  her,  poor  creatur'.  A  bad  thing  for  her  to 
have  an  Injunized  father;  for,  if  it  warn't  for  him,  I 
reckon  my  son  Tom,  the  brute,  would  take  to  her  and  marry 
her." 

"Poor  creature,  indeed!"  muttered  Eoland  to  himself, 
contrasting  in  thought  the  condition  of  this  helpless  and 
deserted  girl  with  that  of  his  own  unfortunate  kinswoman, 
and  sighing  to  acknowledge  that  it  was  still  more  forlorn 
and  pitiable. 

His  sympathy  was,  however,  but  short-lived,  being  in- 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  31 

terrupted  on  the  instant  by  a  loud  uproar  of  voices  from 
the  gate  of  the  stockade,  sounding  half  in  mirth,  half  in 
triumph ;  while  the  junior  Bruce  was  seen  approaching  the 
porch,  looking  the  very  messenger  of  good  news. 


CHAPTER  III. 

What's  the  matter?  Have  we  devils  here?  Do  you  put  tricks 
on  us  with  savages,  and  men  of  Inde? 

— Shakespeare. 
Here  he  comes,  swelling  like  a  turkey-cock. 

— Shakespeare. 

"WHAT'S  the  matter,  Tom  Bruce?"  said  the  father,  eye- 
ing him  with  surprise. 

"Matter  enough,"  responded  the  young  giant,  with  a 
grin  of  mingled  awe  and  delight;  "the  Jibbenainosay  is 
up  again!" 

"Whar  ?"  cried  the  senior  eagerly ;  "not  in  our  limits  ?" 

"No,  by  Jehoshaphat  I"  replied  Tom,  "but  nigh  enough 
to  be  neighborly — on  the  north  bank  of  Kentuck,  whar  he 
has  left  his  mark  right  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  as  fresh 
as  though  it  war  but  the  work  of  the  morning!" 

"And  a  clear  mark,  Tom? — no  mistake  in  it?" 

"Right  to  an  iota!"  said  the  young  man;  "a  reggelar 
cross  on  the  breast,  and  a  good  tomahawk  dig  right  through 
the  skull;  and  a  long-legg'd  fellow  too,  that  looked  as  if 
he  might  have  f ou't  old  Sattan  himself !" 

"It's  the  Jibbenainosay,  sure  enough;  and  so  good  luck 
to  him!"  cried  the  commander;  "thar's  a  harricane  com- 
ing!" 

"Who  is  the  Jibbenainosay?"  demanded  Forrester. 

"Who?"  cried  Tom  Bruce;  "why  Nick— Nick  of  the 
Woods." 

"And  who,  if  you  please,  is  Nick  of  the  Woods?" 

"Thar,"  replied  the  junior  with  another  grin,  "thar, 
strannger,  you're  too  hard  for  me.  Some  think  one 


NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

thing,  and  some  another,  but  thar's  many  reckon  he's  the 
devil." 

"And  his  mark,  that  you  were  talking  of  in  such  mysteri- 
ous terms — what  is  that  ?" 

"Why,  a  dead  Injun,  to  be  sure,  with  Nick's  mark  on 
him — a  knife-cut,  or  a  brace  of  'em,  over  the  ribs  in  the 
shape  of  a  cross.  That's  the  way  the  Jibbenainosay  marks 
all  the  meat  of  his  killing.  It  has  been  a  whole  year  now 
since  we  h'ard  of  him." 

"Captain,"  said  the  elder  Bruce,  "you  don't  seem  to 
understand  the  affa'r  altogether ;  but  if  you  war  to  ask  Tom 
about  the  Jibbenainosay  till  doomsday,  he  could  tell  you 
no  more  than  he  has  told  already.  You  must  know,  thar's 
a  creatur*  of  some  sort  or  other  that  ranges  the  woods 
round  about  our  station  h'yar,  keeping  a  sort  of  guard 
over  us  like,  and  killing  all  the  brute  Injuns  that  ar'  on- 
lucky  enough  to  come  in  his  way,  besides  scalping  them 
and  marking  them  with  his  mark.  The  Injuns  call  him 
Jiblenainosay,  or  a  word  of  that  natur',  which  them  that 
know  more  about  the  Injun  gabble  than  I  do,  say  means 
the  Spirit-that-walks;  and  if  we  can  believe  any  such  lying 
devils  as  Injuns  (which  I  am  loath  to  do,  for  the  truth 
arn't  in  'em),  he  is  neither  man  nor  beast,  but  a  great 
ghost  or  devil  that  knife  cannot  harm  nor  bullet  touch; 
and  they  have  always  had  an  idea  that  our  fort  h'yar  in 
partickelar,  and  the  country  round  about,  war  under  his 
friendly  protection — many  thanks  to  him,  whether  he  be 
a  devil  or  not ;  for  that  war  the  reason  the  savages  so  soon 
left  off  a-worrying  of  us." 

"Is  it  possible !"  said  Roland,  "that  any  one  can  believe 
such  an  absurd  story?" 

"Why  not,"  said  Bruce,  stoutly.  "Thar's  the  Injuns 
themselves,  Shawnees,  Hurons,  Delawares  and  all — but 
partickelarly  the  Shawnees,  for  he  beats  all  creation  a-kill- 
ing  of  Shawnees — that  believe  in  him,  and  hold  him  in 
such  eternal  dread  that  thar's  scarce  a  brute  of  'em  has 
come  within  ten  miles  of  the  station  h'yar  this  three  y'ar; 
because  as  how  he  haunts  about  our  woods  h'yar  in  par- 


NICK   OF    THE    WOODS.  33 

tickelar,  and  he  kills  'em  wheresomever  he  catches  'em — 
especially  the  Shawnees,  as  I  said  afore,  against  which  the 
creatur'  has  a  most  butchering  spite;  and  there's  them 
among  the  other  tribes  that  call  him  the  Shawneewanna- 
ween,  or  the  Howl  of  the  Shawnees,  because  of  his  keeping 
them  ever  a  howling.  And  thar's  his  marks,  captain — 
,what  do  you  make  of  that  ?  When  you  find  an  Injun  lying 
scalped  and  tomahawked,  it  stands  to  reason  thar  war 
something  to  kill  him  ?" 

"Ay,  truly,"  said  Forrester;  "but  I  think  you  have  hu- 
man beings  enough  to  give  the  credit  to  without  referring 
it  to  a  supernatural  one." 

"Strannger,"  said  Big  Tom  Bruce  the  younger,  with  a 
sagacious  nod,  "when  you  kill  an  Injun  yourself,  I  reckon 
— meaning  no  offence — you  will  be  willing  to  take  all  the 
honor  that  can  come  of  it  without  leaving  it  to  be  scrambled 
after  by  others.  Thar's  no  man  'arns  a  scalp  in  Kentucky 
without  taking  great  pains  to  show  it  to  his  neighbors." 

"And  besides,  captain,"  said  the  father,  very  gravely, 
"thar  are  men  among  us  who  have  seen  the  creatw' !" 

"That''  said  Eoland,  who  perceived  his  new  friends  were 
not  well  pleased  with  his  incredulity,  "is  an  argument  I 
can  resist  no  longer." 

"Thar  war  Ben  Jones,  and  Samuel  Sharp,  and  Peter 
Smalleye,  and  a  dozen  more,  who  all  had  a  glimpse  of  him 
stalking  through  the  woods  at  different  times;  and  they 
agree  he  looks  more  like  a  devil  nor  a  mortal  man — a  great 
tall  fellow  with  horns  and  a  hairy  head  like  a  buffalo-bull, 
and  a  little  devil  that  looks  like  a  black  b'ar,  that  walks  be- 
fore him  to  point  out  the  way.  He  war  always  found  in 
the  deepest  forests,  and  that's  the  reason  we  call  him  Nick 
of  the  Woods;  wharby  we  mean  Old  Nick  of  the  Woods, 
for  we  hold  him  to  be  the  devil,  though  a  friendly  one  to 
all  but  Injuns.  Now,  captain,  I  war  never  superstitious 
in  my  life — but  I  go  my  death  on  Jibbenainosay !  I  never 
seed  the  creatur'  himself,  but  I  have  seen  in  my  time  two 
different  savages  of  his  killing.  It's  a  sure  sign,  if  you 
see  him  in  the  woods,  that  thar's  Injuns  at  hand ;  and  if  s 


34  NICK   OF    THE    WOODS. 

a  good  sign  when  you  find  his  mark,  without  seeing  him- 
self, for  then  you  may  be  sure  the  brutes  are  off — they  can't 
stand  Old  Nick  of  the  Woods  no  how!  At  first,  he  war 
never  h'ard  of  afar  from  our  station ;  but  he  has  begun  to 
widen  his  range.  Last  year  he  left  his  marks  down  Salt 
Eiver  in  Jefferson;  and  now,  you  see,  he  is  striking  game 
north  of  the  Kentucky;  and  I  have  h'ard  of  them  that  say 
he  kills  Shawnees  even  in  their  own  country,  though  con- 
sarning  that  I'll  not  be  so  partickelar.  No,  no,  captain, 
thar's  no  mistake  in  Nick  of  the  Woods,  and  if  you  are 
so  minded,  we  will  go  and  h'ar  the  whole  news  of  him. 
But,  I  say,  Tom,"  continued  the  Kentuckian,  as  the  three 
left  the  porch  together,  "who  brought  the  news?" 

"Captain  Ealph — Roaring  Ralph  Stackpole,"  replied 
Tom  Bruce,  with  a  knowing  and  humorous  look. 

"What!"  cried  the  father,  in  sudden  alarm;  "look  to 
the  horses,  Tom !" 

"I  will,"  said  the  youth,  laughing;  "it  war  no  sooner 
known  that  Captain  Ralph  were  among  us  than  it  was  re- 
solved to  have  six  regulators  in  the  range  all  night !  Thar's 
some  of  these  new  colts  (not  to  speak  of  our  own  creatur's), 
and  especially  that  blooded  brown  beast  of  the  captain's, 
which  the  nigger  calls  Brown  Briery,  or  some  such  name, 
would  set  a  better  man  than  Roaring  Ralph  Stackpole's 
mouth  watering." 

"And  who,"  said  Roland,  "is  Roaring  Ralph  Stackpole  ? 
and  what  has  he  to  do  with  Brown  Briareus?" 

"A  proper  fellow  as  ever  you  see!"  replied  Tom,  ap- 
provingly; "killed  two  Injuns  once  single  handed  on  Bear 
Grass,  an's  stolen  more  horses  from  them  than  ar'  another 
man  in  Kentucky.  A  prime  creatur' !  but  he  has  his  fault, 
poor  fellow,  and  sometimes  mistakes  a  Christian's  horse 
for  an  Injun's,  thar's  the  truth  of  it !" 

"And  such  scoundrels  you  mate  officers  of?"  demanded 
the  soldier,  indignantly. 

"Oh,"  said  the  elder  Bruce,  "thar's  no  reggelar  commis- 
sion in  the  case.  But  whar  thar's  a  knot  of  our  poor  folks 
out  of  horses,  and  inclined  to  steal  a  lot  from  the  Shawnees 


NICK   OF   THE    WOODS.  35 

(which  is  all  fa'r  plundering,  you  see,  for  thar's  not  a 
horse  among  them,  the  brutes,  that  they  did  not  steal  from 
Kentucky),  they  send  for  Roaring  Ralph  and  make  him 
their  captain,  and  a  capital  one  he  is,  too,  being  all  fight 
from  top  to  bottom ;  as  for  the  stealing  part,  thar's  no  one 
can  equal  him.  But,  as  Tom  says,  he  sometimes  does  make 
mistakes,  having  stolen  horses  so  often  from  the  Injuns  he 
can  scarce  keep  his  hand  off  a  Christian's,  and  that  makes 
us  wrathy." 

By  this  time  the  speakers  had  reached  the  gate  of  the 
fort,  and  passed  among  the  cabins  outside,  where  they 
found  a  throng  of  the  villagers  surrounding  the  captain 
of  horse-thieves,  and  listening  with  great  edification  to, 
and  deriving  no  little  amusement  from  his  account  of  the 
last  achievement  of  the  Jibbenainosay.  Of  this,  as  it  re- 
lated no  more  than  the  young  Bruce  had  already  repeated — 
namely,  that  while  riding  that  morning  from  the  north 
side  he  had  stumbled  upon  the  corse  of  an  Indian,  which 
bore  all  the  marks  of  having  been  a  late  victim  to  the  wan- 
dering demon  of  the  woods — we  shall  say  nothing;  but  the 
appearance  and  conduct  of  the  narrator,  one  of  the  first, 
and  perhaps  the  parent,  of  the  race  of  men  who  have  made 
Salt  River  so  renowned  in  story,  were  such  as  to  demand  a 
less  summary  notice. 

He  was  a  stout,  bandy-legged,  broad-shouldered,  and 
bull-headed  tatterdemalion;  ugly,  mean,  and  villainous  of 
look ;  yet  with  an  impudent,  swaggering,  joyous  self-esteem 
traced  in  every  feature  and  expressed  in  every  action  of 
body,  that  rather  disposed  the  beholder  to  laugh  than  to. 
be  displeased  at  his  appearance.  An  old  blanket-coat,  or 
wrap-rascal,  once  white,  but  now  of  the  same  muddy  brown 
hue  that  stained  his  visage,  and  once  also  of  sufficient 
length  to  defend  his  legs,  though  the  skirts  had  long  since 
been  transferred  to  the  cuffs  and  elbows,  where  they  ap- 
peared in  huge  patches,  covered  the  upper  part  of  his 
body,  while  the  lower  boasted  a  pair  of  buckskin  breeches 
and  leather  wrappers,  somewhat  its  junior  in  age,  but  its 
rival  in  mud  and  masculation.  An  old  round  fur  hat,  in- 


36  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

tended  originally  for  a  boy,  and  only  made  to  fit  his  head 
by  being  slit  in  sundry  places  at  the  bottom,  thus  leaving 
a  dozen  yawning  gaps,  through  which,  as  through  the 
chinks  of  a  lattice,  stole  out  as  many  stiff  bunches  of  black 
hair,  gave  to  the  capital  excrescence  an  air  as  ridiculous  as 
it  was  truly  uncouth,  which  was  not  a  little  increased  by 
the  absence  on  one  side  of  the  brim,  and  by  a  loose  frag- 
ment of  it  hanging  down  on  the  other. 

To  give  something  martial  to  an  appearance  in  other  re- 
spects so  outlandish  and  ludicrous,  he  had  his  rifle,  and 
other  usual  equipments  of  a  woodman,  including  the  knife 
and  tomahawk,  the  first  of  which  he  carried  in  his  hand, 
swinging  it  about  at  every  moment,  with  a  vigor  and  ap- 
parent carelessness  well  fit  to  discompose  a  nervous  person, 
had  any  such  happened  among  his  auditors. 

As  if  there  was  not  enough  in  his  figure,  visage,  and 
attire  to  move  the  mirth  of  beholders,  he  added  to  his  other 
attractions  a  variety  of  gestures  and  antics,  of  the  most 
extravagant  kinds,  dancing,  leaping,  and  dodging  about, 
clapping  his  hands  and  cracking  his  heels  together,  with 
the  activity,  restlessness,  and  we  may  add,  the  grace  of  a 
jumping- jack. 

Such  was  the  worthy,  or  unworthy,  son  of  Salt  Eiver,  a 
man  wholly  unknown  to  history,  though  not  to  local  and 
traditionary  fame,  and  much  less  to  the  then  inhabitants  of 
Bruce's  station,  to  whom  he  related  the  news  of  the  Jibbe- 
nainosay  with  that  emphasis  and  importance  of  tone  and 
manner  which  are  most  significantly  expressed  in  the 
phrase  of  "laying  down  the  law." 

As  soon  as  he  saw  the  commander  of  the  station  ap- 
proaching, he  cleared  the  throng  around  him  by  a  skip 
and  a  hop,  seized  the  colonel  by  the  hand,  and  doing  the 
same  with  the  soldier,  before  Roland  could  repel  him,  as 
he  would  have  done,  exclaimed,  "Glad  to  see  you,  cunnel ; — 
same  to  you,  strannger — what's  the  news  from  Virginnie? 
Strannger,  my  name's  Ealph  Stackpole,  and  Fm  a  ring- 
tailed  squealer  I" 

"Then,  Mr.  Ralph  Stackpole,  the  ring-tailed  squealer/1 


NICK   OF   THE    WOODS.  37 

said  Eoland,  disengaging  his  hand,  "be  so  good  as  to  pur- 
sue your  business  without  regarding  or  taking  any  notice 
of  me." 

"'Tarnal  death  to  me!"  cried  the  captain  of  horse- 
thieves,  indignant  at  the  rebuff,  "I'm  a  gentleman  and  my 
name's  Fight!  Foot  and  hand,  tooth  and  nail,  claw  and 
mud-scraper,  knife,  gun,  and  tomahawk,  or  any  other  way 
you  choose  to  take  me,  I'm  your  man!"  Cock-a-doodle- 
doo  !" 

And  with  that  the  gentleman  jumped  into  the  air,  and 
flapped  his  wings,  as  much  to  the  amusement  of  the  pro- 
voker  of  his  wrath  as  of  any  other  person  present. 

"Come,  Ealph,"  said  the  commander  of  the  station, 
"whar'd  you  steal  that  brown  mar5  thar?" — a  question 
whose  abruptness  somewhat  quelled  the  ferment  of  the 
man's  fury,  while  it  drew  a  roar  of  laughter  from  the 
lookers-on. 

"Thar  it  is !"  said  he,  striking  an  attitude  and  clapping 
a  hand  on  his  breast,  like  a  man  who  felt  his  honor  Tin- 
justly  assailed.  "Steal !  I  steal  any  horse  but  an  Injun's ! 
Whar's  the  man  dar's  insinivate  that?  Blood  and  massa- 
cree-ation !  whar's  the  man  ?" 

"H'yar,"  said  Bruce,  very  composedly.  "I  know  that 
old  mar'  belongs  to  Peter  Harper,  on  the  north  side." 

"You're  right,  by  Hooky!"  cried  Koaring  Ealph;  at 
which  seeming  admission  of  his  knavery  the  merriment  of 
the  spectators  was  greatly  increased;  nor  was  it  much  less- 
ened when  the  fellow  proceeded  to  aver  that  he  had  bor- 
rowed it,  and  that  with  the  express  stipulation  that  it 
should  be  left  at  Bruce's  station,  subject  to  the  orders  of  its 
owner. 

"Thar,  cunnel,"  said  he,  "thar's  the  beast;  take  it;  and 
just  tell  me  whar's  the  one  you  mean  to  lend  me — for  I 
must  be  off  afore  sunset." 

"And  whar  are  you  going?"  demanded  Bruce. 

"To  St.  Asaph's," — which  was  a  station  some  twenty 
or  thirty  miles  off, — replied  Captain  Stackpole. 

"Too  far  for  the  regulators  to  follow,  Ealph,"  said 


38  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

Colonel  Bruce;  at  which  the  young  men  present  laughed 
louder  than  ever,  and  eyed  the  visitor  in  a  way  that  seemed 
both  to  disconcert  and  offend  him. 

"Gunnel/'  said  he,  "you're  a  man  in  authority,  and  my 
superior  officer;  wharf o'  thar  can  be  no  scalping  between 
us.  But  my  name's  Tom  Dowdle,  the  rag-man!"  he 
screamed,  suddenly  skipping  into  the  thickest  of  the  throng, 
and  sounding  a  note  of  defiance ;  "my  name's  Tom  Dowdle, 
the  rag-man,  and  I'm  for  any  man  that  insults  me!  log- 
leg  or  leather-breeches,  green-shirt  or  blanket-coat,  land- 
trotter  or  river-roller, — I'm  the  man  for  a  massacree !" 

Then  giving  himself  a  twirl  upon  his  foot  that  would 
have  done  credit  to  a  dancing-master,  he  proceeded  to  other 
antic  demonstrations  of  hostility,  which,  when  performed 
in  after  years  on  the  banks  of  the  Lower  Mississippi,  by 
himself  and  his  worthy  imitators,  were,  we  suspect,  the 
cause  of  their  receiving  the  name  of  the  mighty  alligator. 
It  is  said,  by  naturalists,  of  this  monstrous  reptile,  that 
he  delights,  when  the  returning  warmth  of  spring  has 
brought  his  fellows  from  their  holes,  and  placed  them  bask- 
ing along  the  banks  of  a  swampy  lagoon,  to  dart  into  the 
centre  of  the  expanse,  and  challenge  the  whole  field  to  com- 
bat. He  roars,  he  blows  the  water  from  his  nostrils,  he 
lashes  it  with  his  tail,  he  whirls  round  and  round,  churn- 
ing the  water  into  foam,  until  having  worked  himself  into 
a  proper  fury,  he  darts  back  again  to  the  shore  to  seek  an 
antagonist. 

Had  the  gallant  captain  of  horse-thieves  boasted  the 
blood  as  he  afterwards  did  the  name,  of  an  "alligator  half- 
breed,"  he  could  have  scarce  conducted  himself  in  a  way 
more  worthy  of  his  parentage.  He  leaped  into  the  centre 
of  the  throng,  where,  having  found  elbow-room  for  his 
purpose,  he  performed  the  gyration  mentioned  before,  fol- 
lowing it  up  by  other  feats  expressive  of  his  hostile  humor. 
He  flapped  his  wings  and  crowed  until  every  chanticleer 
in  the  settlement  replied  to  the  note  of  battle ;  he  snorted 
and  neighed  like  a  horse ;  he  bellowed  like  a  bull ;  he  barked 
like  a  dog;  he  yelled  like  an  Indian;  he  whined  like  a 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS,  39 

panther;  he  howled  like  a  wolf;  until  one  would  have 
thought  he  was  a  living  menagerie,  comprising  within  his 
single  body  the  spirit  of  every  animal  noted  for  its  We  of 
conflict. 

Not  content  with  such  a  display  of  readiness  to  fighi  the 
field,  he  darted  from  the  centre  of  the  area  allowed  him  for 
his  exercise,  and  invited  the  lookers-on  individually  to 
battle.  "Whar's  your  buffalo-bull/'  he  cried,  "to  cross 
horns  with  the  roarer  of  Salt  River?  Whar's  your  ful? 
blood  colt  that  can  shake  a  saddle  off?  h'yar's  an  old  nag 
can  kick  off  the  top  of  a  buck-eye !  Whar's  your  cat  of  the 
Knobs  ?  your  wolf  of  the  Rolling  Prairies  ?  h'yar's  the  old 
brown  b'ar  can  claw  the  bark  off  a  gum-tree !  H'yar's  a  mai? 
for  you,  Tom  Bruce !  Same  to  you,  Sim  Roberts !  to  you, 
Jimmy  Big-nose !  to  you,  and  to  you,  and  to  you !  Arn't  I 
a  ring-tailed  squealer  ?  Can  go  down  Salt  on  my  back,  and 
swim  up  the  Ohio !  Whar's  the  man  to  fight  Roaring 
Ralph  Stackpole?" 

Now,  whether  it  happened  that  there  were  none  present 
inclined  for  a  contest  with  such  a  champion,  or  whether 
it  was  that  the  young  men  looked  upon  the  exhibition  as  a 
mere  bravado,  meant  rather  to  amuse  than  to  irritate,  it 
so  occurred  that  not  one  of  them  accepted  the  challenge ; 
though  each,  when  personally  called  on,  did  his  best  to 
add  to  the  roarer's  fury,  if  fury  it  really  were,  by  letting 
off  sundry  jests  in  relation  to  borrowed  horses  and  regu- 
lators.* 

That  the  fellow's  rage  was  in  great  part  assumed,  Ro- 
land, who  was,  at  first,  somewhat  amused  at  his  extrava- 
gance, became  soon  convinced;  and  growing  at  last  weary 
of  it,  he  was  about  to  signify  to  his  host  an  inclination  to 
return  into  the  fort,  when  the  appearance  of  another  in«= 
dividual  on  the  ground  suddenly  gave  promise  of 
entertainment. 


*Amateur   Jack-Ketches,   who   administer   Lynch-law,   in   the 

United  States. 


40  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Here's   a   large   mouth   indeed, 

That  spits  forth  death,  and  mountains,  rocks  and  seas; 
Talks  as  familiarly  of  roaring  lions 
As  maids  of  thirteen  do  of  puppy-dogs! 
What  cannoneer  begot  this  lusty  blood? 
He  speaks  plain  cannon,  fire,  and  smoke,  and  bounce; 
He  gives  the  bastinado  with  his  tongue; 
Our  ears  are  cudgelPd. 

—  King  John. 


you're  ralely  ripe  for  a  fight,  Roaring  Ralph/'  cried 
Tom  Bruce  the  younger,  who  had  shown,  like  the  others,  a 
greater  disposition  to  jest  than  to  do  battle  with  the  cham- 
pion, "here  comes  the  very  man  for  you.  Look,  boys,  thar 
comes  Bloody  Nathan  I"  At  which  formidable  name  there 
was  a  loud  shout  set  up,  with  an  infinite  deal  of  laughing 
and  clapping  of  hands. 

"Whar's  the  feller/'  cried  Captain  Stackpole,  springing 
six  feet  into  the  air,  and  uttering  a  whoop  of  anticipated 
triumph.  "I've  heerd  of  the  brute,  and  'tarnal  death  to 
me,  but  I'm  his  super-superior  !  Show  me  the  crittur,  and 
let  me  fly  !  Cock-a-doodle-doo  !" 

"Hurrah  for  Roaring  Ralph  Stackpole!"  cried  the 
young  men,  some  of  whom  proceeded  to  pat  him  on  the 
back  in  compliment  to  his  courage,  while  others  ran  for- 
ward to  hasten  the  approach  of  the  expected  antagonist. 

The  appearance  of  the  comer,  at  a  distance,  promised 
an  equal  match  to  the  captain  of  horse-thieves;  but  Ro- 
land perceived  from  the  increase  of  merriment  among  the 
Kentuckians,  and  especially  from  his  host  joining  heartily 
in  it,  that  there  was  more  in  Bloody  Nathan  than  met  the 
eye.  And  yet  there  was  enough  in  his  appearance  to  at- 
tract attention,  and  to  convince  the  soldier  that  if  Ken- 
tucky had  shown  him,  in  Captain  Stackpole,  one  extraor- 
dinary specimen  of  her  inhabitants,  she  had  others  to  ex- 
hibit not  a  whit  less  remarkable.  It  is  on  the  frontiers,  in- 
deed, where  adventurers  from  every  corner  of  the  world. 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  '41 

and  from  every  circle  of  society,  are  thrown  together,  that 
we  behold  the  strongest  contrasts,  and  the  strangest 
varieties  of  human  character. 

Casting  his  eyes  down  the  road  or  street  (for  it  was 
flanked  by  the  outer  cabins  of  the  settlement,  and  perhaps 
deserved  the  latter  name),  which  led,  among  stumps  and 
gullies,  from  the  gate  of  the  stockade  to  the  bottom  of  the 
hill,  Forrester  beheld  a  tall  man  approaching,  leading  an 
old  lame  white  horse,  at  the  heels  of  which  followed  a  little 
silky-haired  black  or  brown  dog,  dragging  its  tail  betwixt 
its  legs,  in  compliment  to  the  curs  of  the  station,  which 
seemed  as  hospitably  inclined  to  spread  a  field  of  battle  for 
the  submissive  brute,  as  their  owners  were  to  make  ready 
another  for  its  master. 

The  first  thing  that  surprised  the  soldier  in  the  appear- 
ance of  the  person  bearing  so  formidable  a  name,  was  an 
incongruity,  which  struck  others  as  well  as  himself,  even 
the  colonel  of  militia  exclaiming,  as  he  pointed  it  out  with 
his  finger,  "It's  old  Nathan  Slaughter,  to  the  back-bone ! 
Thar  he  comes,  the  brute,  leading  a  horse  in  his  hand,  and 
carrying  his  pack  on  his  own  back !  But  he's  a  marciful 
man,  old  Nathan,  and  the  horse  thar,  old  White  Dobbin, 
war  foundered  and  good  for  nothing  ever  since  the  boys 
made  a  race  with  him  against  Sammy  Parker's  jackass." 

As  he  approached  yet  nearer,  Roland  perceived  that  his 
tall  gaunt  figure  was  arrayed  in  garments  of  leather  from 
top  to  toe,  even  his  cap  or  hat  (for  such  it  seemed,  having 
several  broad  flaps  suspended  by  strings,  so  as  to  serve  the 
purpose  of  a  brim),  being  composed  of  fragments  of  tanned 
skins  rudely  sewed  together.  His  upper  garment  differed 
from  a  hunting-shirt  only  in  wanting  the  fringes  usually 
appended  to  it,  and  in  being  fashioned  without  any  regard 
to  the  body  it  encompassed,  so  that,  in  looseness  and  shape- 
lessness,  it  looked  more  like  a  sack  than  a  human  vestment ; 
and,  like  his  breeches  and  leggings,  it  bore  the  marks  of  the 
most  reverend  antiquity,  being  covered  with  patches  and 
stains  of  all  ages,  sizes,  and  colors. 

Thus  far  Bloody  Nathan's  appearance  was  not  incon- 


42  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

cistent  with  his  name,  being  uncommonly  wild  and  savage ; 
and  to  assist  in  maintaining  his  claims  to  the  title,  he  had  a 
long  rifle  on  his  shoulder,  and  a  knife  in  his  belt,  both  of 
which  were  in  a  state  of  dilapidation  worthy  of  his  other 
equipments ;  the  knife,  from  long  use  and  age,  being  worn 
so  thin  that  it  seemed  scarce  worth  the  carrying — while  the 
rifle  boasted  a  stock  so  rude,  shapeless,  and,  as  one  would 
have  judged  from  its  magnitude  and  weight,  so  unservice- 
able, that  it  was  easy  to  believe  it  had  been  constructed  by 
the  unskilful  hands  of  Nathan  himself. 

Such,  then,  was  the  appearance  of  the  man  who  seemed 
so  properly  to  be  called  the  Bloody;  but  when  Roland 
came  to  survey  him  a  little  more  closely,  he  could  not 
avoid  suspecting  that  the  soubriquet,  instead  of  being 
given  to  indicate  warlike  and  dangerous  traits  of  char- 
acter, had  been  bestowed  out  of  pure  wantonness  and  deri- 
sion. His  visage,  seeming  to  belong  to  a  man  of  at  least 
forty-five  or  fifty  years  of  age,  was  hollow,  and  almost  as 
weather-worn  as  his  apparel,  with  a  long  hooked  nase, 
prominent  chin,  a  wide  mouth,  exceedingly  straight  and 
pinched,  with  a  melancholy  or  contemplative  twist  at  the 
corners,  and  a  pair  of  black,  staring  eyes,  that  beamed  a 
good-natured,  humble,  and  perhaps  submissive,  simplicity 
of  disposition.  His  gait,  too,  as  he  stumbled  along  up  the 
hill,  with  a  shuffling,  awkward,  hesitating  step,  was  more 
like  that  of  a  man  who  apprehended  injury  and  insult,  than 
of  one  who  possessed  the  spirit  to  resist  them.  The  fact, 
moreover,  of  his  sustaining  on  his  own  shoulders  a  heavy 
pack  of  deer  and  other  skins,  to  relieve  the  miserable  horse 
which  he  led,  betokened  a  merciful  temper,  scarcely  com- 
patible with  the  qualities  of  a  man  of  war  and  contention. 
'Another  test  and  criterion  by  which  Roland  judged  his 
claims  to  the  character  of  a  roarer,  he  found  in  the  little 
black  dog;  for  the  Virginian  was  a  devout  believer,  as  we 
are  ourselves,  in  the  maxim  of  practical  philosophers — 
namely,  that  by  the  dog  you  shall  know  the  master,  the 
one  being  fierce,  magnanimous,  and  cowardly,  just  as  his 
master  is  a  bully,  a  gentleman,  or  a  dastard.  The  little 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

dog  of  Bloody  Nathan  was  evidently  a  coward,  creeping 
along  at  White  Dobbin's  heels,  and  seeming  to  supplicate 
with  his  tail,  which  now  draggled  in  the  mud,  and  now 
attempted  a  timid  wag,  that  his  fellow  curs  of  the  sta- 
tion should  not  be  rude  and  inhospitable  to  a  peaceable 
stranger. 

On  the  whole,  the  appearance  of  the  man  was  any  thing 
in  the  world  but  that  of  the  bulky  and  ferocious  ruffian 
whom  the  nickname  had  led  Eoland  to  anticipate;  and  he 
scarcely  knew  whether  to  pity  him,  or  to  join  in  the  laugh 
with  which  the  young  men  of  the  settlement  greeted  his 
approach.  Perhaps  his  sense  of  the  ridiculous  would  have 
disposed  the  young  soldier  to  merriment;  but  the  wistful 
look,  with  which,  while  advancing,  Nathan  seemed  to  dep- 
recate the  insults  he  evidently  expected,  spoke  volumes  of 
reproach  to  his  spirit,  and  the  half-formed  smile  faded 
from  his  countenance. 

"Thar!"  exclaimed  Tom  Bruce,  slapping  Stackpole  on 
the  shoulder,  with  great  glee,  "thar's  the  man  that  calls 
himself  Danger!  At  him,  for  the  honor  of  Salt  Eiver; 
but  take  care  of  his  forelegs,  for  I  tell  you,  he's  the  Penn- 
sylvany  war-horse  I" 

"And  arn't  I  the  ramping  tiger  of  the  Rolling  Fork?" 
cried  Captain  Ralph;  "and  can't  I  eat  him,  hoss,  dog, 
dirty  jacket,  and  all  ?  Hold  me  by  the  tail,  while  I  devour 
him !" 

With  that  he  executed  two  or  three  escapades,  demivoltes, 
curvets,  and  other  antics  of  a  truly  equine  character,  and, 
galloping  up  to  the  amazed  Nathan,  saluted  him  with  a 
neigh  so  shrill  and  hostile  that  even  White  Dobbin  pricked 
up  his  ears,  and  betrayed  other  symptoms  of  alarm. 

"Surely,  colonel,"  said  Roland,  "you  will  not  allow  that 
mad  ruffian  to  assail  the  poor  man?" 

"Oh,"  said  Bruce,  "Ralph  won't  hurt  him;  he's  never 
ambitious  except  among  Injuns  and  horses.  He's  only 
for  skearing  the  old  feller." 

"And  who !"  said  Forrester,  "may  the  old  fellow  be  ? 
and  why  do  you  call  him  Bloody  Nathan  ?"  The  comman- 


44  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

der  replied,  "Because  he's  the  only  man  in  all  Kentucky  that 
won't  fight,  and  thar's  the  way  he  beats  us  all  hollow. 
Lord,  captain,  you'd  hardly  believe  it,  but  he's  nothing 
more  than  a  poor  Pennsylvany  Quaker;  and  what  brought 
him  out  to  Kentucky,  whar  thar's  nar  another  creatur'  of 
his  tribe,  thar's  no  knowing.  Some  say  he  war,  dishonest, 
and  so  had  to  cut  loose  from  Pennsylvany;  but  I  never 
heard  of  his  stealing  any  thing  in  Kentucky;  I  reckon 
thar's  too  much  of  the  chicken  about  him  for  that.  Some 
say  he  is  hunting  rich  lands,  which  war  like  enough  for 
any  body  that  war  not  so  poor  and  lazy.  And  some  say  his 
wits  are  unsettled,  and  I  hold  that  that's  the  truth  of  the 
creatur';  for  he  does  nothing  but  go  wandering  up  and 
down  the  country,  now  h'yar  and  now  thar,  hunting  for 
meat  and  skins,  and  that's  pretty  much  the  way  he  makes 
a  living;  and  once  I  see'd  the  creatur'  have  a  fit — a  right- 
up-and-down  touch  of  the  falling  sickness,  with  his  mouth 
all  of  a  foam.  Thar's  them  that's  good-natur'd,  that  calls 
him  Wandering  Nathan,  because  of  his  being  h'yar,  and 
thar,  and  every  whar.  He  don't  seem  much  afear'd  of  the 
Injuns;  but,  they  say,  the  red  brutes  never  disturbs  the 
Pennsylvany  Quakers.  Howsomever,  he  makes  himself 
useful;  for  sometimes  he  finds  Injun  sign  whar  thar's  no 
Injuns  thought  of,  and  so  he  gives  information;  but  he 
always  does  it,  as  he  says,  to  save  bloodshed,  not  to  bring  on 
a  fight.  He  comes  to  me  once,  thar's  more  than  three 
years  ago,  and  instead  of  saying  'Gunnel,  thar's  twenty 
Injuns  lying  on  the  road  at  the  lower  fort  of  Salt,  whar 
you  may  nab  them,  he  says,  says  he,  Triend  Thomas,  thee 
must  kept  the  people  from  going  nigh  the  ford,  for  thar's 
Injuns  thar  that  will  hurt  them;'  and  then  he  takes  him- 
self off,  whilst  I  rides  down  thar  with  twenty-five  men,  and 
exterminates  them,  killing  six,  and  driving  the  others  the 
Lord  knows  whar.  He  has  had  but  a  hard  time  of  it 
among  us,  poor  creatur',  for  it  used  to  make  us  wrathy  to 
find  thar  war  so  little  fight  in  him  that  he  wouldn't  so 
much  as  kill  a  murdering  Injun.  I  took  his  gun  from  him 
once;  for  why  he  wouldn't  attend  muster  when  I  had  en- 


NICK   OF   THE   WOODS.  45 

rolled  him.  But  I  pitied  the  brute,  for  he  war  poor,  and 
thar  war  but  little  corn  in  his  cabin,  and  nothing  to  shoot 
meat  with ;  and  so  I  gave  it  back,  and  told  him  to  take  his 
own  ways  for  an  old  fool." 

While  Colonel  Bruce  was  thus  delineating  the  character 
of  Nathan  Slaughter,  the  latter  found  himself  surrounded 
by  the  young  men  of  the  station,  the  butt  of  a  thousand 
jests,  and  the  victim  of  the  insolence  of  the  captain  of 
horse-thieves.  It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  Roaring  Ralph 
was  really  the  bully  and  madman  that  his  extravagant 
freaks  and  expressions  seemed  to  proclaim  him.  These, 
like  any  other  "actions  that  a  man  might  play,"  were  as- 
sumed, partly  because  it  suited  his  humor  to  be  fantastic, 
and  partly  because  the  putting  of  his  antic  disposition  on, 
was  the  only  means  which  he,  like  many  of  his  betters, 
possessed  of  attracting  attention,  and  avoiding  the  neglect 
and  contempt  to  which  his  low  habits  and  appearance  would 
have  otherwise  justly  consigned  him.  There  was,  there- 
fore, little  really  hostile  in  the  feeling  with  which  he  ap- 
proached the  non-combatant;  though  it  was  more  than 
probable,  the  disgust  he,  in  common  with  the  other  war- 
like personages,  entertained  towards  the  peaceable  Nathan 
might  have  rendered  him  a  little  more  malicious  than 
usual. 

"Bloody  Nathan !"  said  he,  as  soon  as  he  had  concluded 
his  neighing  and  curvetting,  "if  you  ever  said  your 
prayers,  now^s  the  time.  Down  with  your  pack, — for  I 
can't  stand  deer's  ha'r  sticking  in  my  swallow,  no  how !" 

"Friend,"  said  Bloody  Nathan,  meekly,  "I  beg  thee 
will  not  disturb  me.  I  am  a  man  of  peace  and  quiet." 

And  so  saying,  he  endeavored  to  pass  onwards ;  but  was 
prevented  by  Ralph,  who,  seizing  his  heavy  bundle  with  one 
hand,  applied  his  right  foot  to  it  with  a  dexterity  that  not 
only  removed  it  from  the  poor  man's  back,  but  sent  the 
dried  skins  scattering  over  the  road.  This  feat  was  re- 
warded by  the  spectators  with  loud  shouts,  all  which,  as 
well  as  the  insult  itself,  Nathan  bore  with  exemplary  pa- 
tience. 


46  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

"Friend,"  he  said,  "what  does  thee  seek  of  me,  that  thee 
treats  me  thus?" 

"A  fight,"  replied  Captain  Stackpole,  uttering  a  war- 
whoop  ;  "a  fight,  strannger,  for  the  love  of  heaven !" 

"Thee  seeks  it  of  the  wrong  person,"  said  Nathan,  "and 
I  beg  thee  will  get  thee  away." 

"What!"  said  Stackpole,  "arn't  thee  the  Pennsylvany 
war-horse,  the  screamer  of  the  meeting  house,  the  bloody- 
mouthed  b'ar  of  Yea-Nay,  and  Verily?" 

"I  am  a  man  of  peace,"  said  the  submissive  Slaughter. 

"Yea  verily,  verily  and  yea!"  cried  Ealph,  snuffling 
through  the  nostrils,  but  assuming  an  air  of  extreme  in- 
dignation; ^Strannger,  Fve  heerd  of  you!  You're  the 
man  that  holds  it  again  duty  and  conscience  to  kill  Injuns, 
the  red-skinned  screamers, — that  refuses  to  defend  the  wo- 
men, the  splendiferous  critturs!  and  the  little  children, 
the  squall-a-baby  d'ars!  And  wharf  o'?  Because,  as  how 
you're  a  man  of  peace  and  no  fight,  you  superiferous,  long- 
legged,  no-souled  crittur !  But  I'm  the  gentleman  to  make 
a  man  of  you.  So  down  with  your  gun,  and  'tarnal  death 
to  me,  I'll  whip  the  cowardly  devil  out  of  you." 

"Friend,"  said  Nathan,  his  humility  yielding  to  a  feel- 
ing of  contempt,  "thee  is  theeself  a  cowardly  person,  or 
thee  wouldn't  seek  a  quarrel  with  one,  thee  knows,  can't 
fight  thee.  Thee  would  not  be  so  ready  with  thee  match." 

With  that  he  stooped  to  gather  up  his  skins,  a  proceed- 
ing that  Stackpole,  against  whom  the  laugh  was  turned  by 
this  sally  of  Nathan's,  resisted  by  catching  him  by  the  nape 
of  the  neck,  twirling  him  round,  and  making  as  if  he  really 
would  have  beaten  him. 

Even  this  the  peaceful  Nathan  bore  without  anger  or 
murmuring ;  but  his  patience  fled  when  Stackpole,  turning 
to  the  little  dog,  which  by  bristling  its  back  and  growling, 
expressed  a  half  inclination  to  take  up  its  master's  quarrel, 
applied  his  foot  to  its  ribs  with  a  violence  that  sent  it  roll- 
ing some  five  or  six  yards  down  the  hill,  where  it  lay  for 
a  time  yelping  and  whining  with  pain. 

"Friend !"  said  Nathan,  sternly,  "thee  is  but  a  dog  thee- 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  47 

self  to  harm  the  creature!  What  will  thee  have  with 
me?" 

" A  fight !  a  fight,  I  tell  thee !"  replied  Captain  Ralph, 
"till  I  teach  thy  leatherified  conscience  the  new  doctrines 
of  Kentucky." 

"Fight  thee,  I  cannot  and  dare  not,"  said  Nathan ;  and 
then  added,  much  to  the  surprise  of  Forrester,  who,  shar- 
ing his  indignation  at  the  brutality  of  his  tormentor,  had 
approached  to  drive  the  fellow  off — '"but  if  thee  must  have 
thee  deserts,  thee  shall  have  them.  Thee  prides  theeself 
upon  thee  courage  and  strength — will  thee  adventure  with 
me  a  friendly  fall  ?" 

"Hurrah  for  Bloody  Nathan!"  cried  the  young  men, 
vastly  delighted  at  his  unwonted  spirit,  while  Captain 
Ralph  himself  expressed  his  pleasure  by  leaping  into  the 
air,  crowing,  and  dashing  off  his  hat,  which  he  kicked  down 
the  hill  with  as  much  good  will  as  he  had  previously  be- 
stowed upon  the  little  dog. 

"Off  with  your  leather  night-cap,  and  down  with  your 
rifle,"  he  cried,  giving  his  own  weapon  into  the  hands  of  a 
looker-on,  "and  scrape  some  of  the  grease  off  your  jacket; 
for,  'tarnal  death  to  me,  I  shall  give  you  the  Virginny 
lock,  fling  you  head-fo'most,  and  you'll  find  yourself  in  a 
twinkling,  sticking  fast  right  in  the  centre  of  the  'arth !" 

"Thee  may  find  theeself  mistaken,"  said  Nathan,  giving 
up  his  gun  to  one  of  the  young  men,  but  instead  of  reject- 
ing his  hat,  pulling  it  down  tight  over  his  brows.  "There 
is  locks  taught  among  the  mountains  of  Bedford  that  may 
be  as  good  as  them  learned  on  the  hills  of  Virginia.  I  am 
ready  for  thee." 

"Cock-a-doodle-doo!"  cried  Ralph  Stackpole,  springing 
towards  his  man,  and  clapping  his  hands,  one  on  Nathan's 
left  shoulder,  and  the  other  on  his  right  hip:  "Are  you 
ready?" 

"I  am,"  replied  Nathan. 

"Down,  then,  you  go,  war  you  a  buffalo!"  And  with 
that  the  captain  of  horse-thieves  put  forth  his  strength, 
which  was  very  great,  in  an  effort  that  appeared  to  Roland 


48  NICK   OF   THE    WOODS. 

quite  irresistible;  though,  as  it  happened,  it  scarce  moved 
Nathan  from  his  position. 

"Thee  is  mistaken,  friend!"  he  cried,  exerting  his 
strength  in  return,  and  with  an  effect  that  no  one  had  an- 
ticipated. By  magic,  as  it  seemed,  the  heels  of  the  cap- 
tain of  horse-thieves  were  suddenly  seen  flying  in  the  air, 
fhis  head  aiming  at  the  earth,  upon  which  it  as  suddenly 
Descended  with  the  violence  of  a  bomb-shell;  and  there  it 
would  doubtless  have  burrowed,  like  the  aforesaid  imple- 
ment of  destruction,  had  the  soil  been  soft  enough  for  the 
purpose,  or  exploded  into  a  thousand  fragments  had 
not  the  shell  been  double  the  thickness  of  an  ordinary 
skull. 

"Huzza!  Bloody  Nathan  for  ever!"  shouted  the  de- 
lighted villagers. 

"He  has  killed  i^ie  man,"  said  Forrester;  "but  bear 
witness,  all,  the  fellow  provoked  his  fate." 

"Thanks  to  you,  strannger!  but  not  so  dead  as  you 
reckon,"  said  Ralph,  rising  to  his  feet,  and  scratching  his 
poll,  with  a  stare  of  comical  confusion.  "I  say,  strannger, 
here's  my  shoulder, — but  whar's  my  head  ?  Do  you  reckon 
I  had  the  worst  of  it?" 

"Huzza  for  Bloody  Nathan  Slaughter !  He  has  whipped 
the  ramping  tiger  of  Salt  River,"  cried  the  young  men  of 
the  station. 

"Well,  I  reckon  he  has,"  said  the  magnanimous  Captain 
Ralph,  picking  up  his  hat ;  then  walking  up  to  Nathan,  who 
had  taken  his  dog  into  his  arms,  to  examine  into  the  little 
animal's  hurts,  he  cried,  with  much  good-humored  energy, 
— "Thar's  my  fo-paw  in  token  I've  had  enough  of  you, 
(and  want  no  mo'.  But  I  say,  Nathan  Slaughter,"  he 
added,  as  he  grasped  the  victor's  hand,  "it's  no  thing  you 
can  boast  of,  to  be  the  strongest  man  in  Kentucky,  and  the 
most  sevagarous  at  a  tussel, — h'yar  among  murdering  In- 
juns and  scalping-runnegades,  and  keep  your  fists  off  their 
top-knots.  Thar's  my  idear ;  for  I  go  for  the  doctrine  that 
every  able-bodied  man  should  sarve  his  country  and  his 
neighbors,  and  fight  their  foes ;  and  them  that  does  is  men 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  49 

and  gentlemen,  and  them  that  don't  is  cowards  and  rascals, 
that's  my  idear.  And  so,  fawwell." 

Then,  executing  another  demivolte  or  two,  but  with 
much  less  spirit  than  he  had  previously  displayed,  he  re- 
turned to  Colonel  Bruce,  saying,  "Whar's  that  horse  you 
promised  me,  cunnel  ?  I'm  a  licked  man,  and  I  can't  stay 
here  no  longer,  no  way  no  how.  Lend  me  a  hoss,  cunnel, 
and  trust  to  my  honor." 

"You  shall  have  a  beast/'  said  Bruce  coolly;  "but  as  to 
trusting  your  honor,  I  shall  do  no  such  thing,  having  some- 
thing much  better  to  rely  on.  Tom  will  show  you  a 
horse;  and,  remember,  you  are  to  leave  him  at  Logan's. 
If  you  carry  him  a  step  further,  captain,  you'll  never  carry 
another.  Judge  Lynch  is  looking  at  you ;  and  so  bewarV' 

Having  uttered  this  hint,  he  left  the  captain  of  horse- 
thieves  to  digest  it  as  he  might,  and  stepped  up  to  Nathan, 
who  had  seated  himself  on  a  stump,  where,  with  his  skins 
at  his  side,  his  little  dog  and  his  rifle  betwixt  his  legs,  he 
sat  enduring  a  thousand  sarcastic  encomiums  on  his 
strength  and  spirit,  with  as  many  sharp  denunciations  of 
the  peaceful  principles  that  robbed  the  community  of  the 
services  he  had  shown  himself  so  well  able  to  render. 

The  doctrine,  so  eloquently  avowed  by  Captain  Ralph, 
that  it  was  incumbent  upon  every  able-bodied  man  to  fight 
the  enemies  of  their  little  state,  the  murderers  of  their 
wives  and  children,  was  a  canon  of  belief  imprinted  on 
the  heart  of  every  man  in  the  district;  and  Nathan's  fail- 
ure to  do  so,  however  caused  by  his  conscientious  aversion 
to  bloodshed,  no  more  excused  him  from  contempt  and 
persecution  in  the  wilderness,  than  it  did  others  of  his 
persuasion  in  the  Eastern  republics,  during  the  war  of  the 
revolution.  His  appearance,  accordingly,  at  any  station, 
was  usually  the  signal  for  reproach  and  abuse;  the  fear 
of  which  had  driven  him  almost  from  the  society  of  his 
fellow-men,  so  that  he  was  seldom  seen  among  them,  ex- 
cept when  impelled  by  necessity,  or  when  his  wanderings 
in  the  woods  had  acquainted  him  with  the  proximity  of  the 
foes  of  his  persecutors.  His  victory  over  the  captain  of 


$0  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

horse-thieves  exposed  him  on  this  occasion  to  ruder  and 
more  angry  remonstrances  than  usual ;  which  having  sought 
in  vain  to  avert,  he  sat  down  in  despair,  enduring  all  in 
silence,  staring  from  one  to  another  of  his  tormentors  with 
lack-lustre  eyes,  and  playing  with  the  silken  hair  of  his 
dog.  The  approach  of  the  captain  of  the  station  procured 
him  an  interval  of  peace,  which  he,  however,  employed  only 
to  communicate  his  troubles  to  the  little  cur,  that,  in  his 
perplexity,  he  addressed  pretty  much  as  he  would  have 
addressed  a  human  friend  and  adviser :  "Well,  Peter/'  said 
he  abstractedly,  and  with  a  heavy  sigh,  "what  does  thee 
think  of  matters  and  things?"  To  which  question,  the 
ridiculousness  of  which  somewhat  mollified  the  anger  of 
the  young  men,  Peter  replied  by  rubbing  his  nose  against 
his  master's  hand,  and  by  walking  a  step  or  two  down  the 
hill,  as  if  advising  an  instant  retreat  from  the  inhospitable 
station. 

"Ay,  Peter,"  muttered  Nathan,  "the  sooner  we  go  the 
better,  for  there  are  none  that  make  us  welcome.  But 
nevertheless,  Peter,  we  must  have  our  lead  and  our  powder, 
and  we  must  tell  these  poor  people  the  news." 

"And  pray,  Nathan,"  said  Colonel  Bruce,  rousing  him 
from  his  meditations,  "what  may  your  news  for  the  poor 
people  be  ?  I  reckon  it  will  be  much  wiser  to  tell  it  to  me 
than  that  'ar  brute  dog.  You  have  seen  the  Jibbenainosay, 
perhaps,  or  his  mark  thar-away  on  the  Kentucky?" 

"Nay,"  said  Nathan.  "But  there  is  news  from  the  In- 
jun towns  of  a  great  gathering  of  Injuns  with  their  men 
of  war  in  the  Miami  villages,  who  design,  the  evil  crea- 
tures, marching  into  the  district  of  Kentucky  with  a 
greater  army  than  was  ever  seen  in  the  land  before." 

"Let  them  come,  the  brutes,"  said  the  Kentuckian,  with 
a  laugh  of  scorn;  "it  will  save  us  the  trouble  of  hunting 
them  up  in  their  own  towns." 

"Nay,"  said  Nathan,  "but  perhaps  they  have  come;  for 
the  prisoner  who  escaped,  and  who  is  bearing  the  news  to 
friend  Clark,  the  general  at  the  Falls,  says  they  were  to 
march  two  days  after  he  fled  from  them." 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  51 

"And  whar  did  you  learn  this  precious  news?" 

"At  the  lower  ford  of  Kentucky,  and  from  the  man  him- 
self," said  Nathan.  "He  had  warned  the  settlers  at  Lex- 
ington  " 

"That's  piper's  news,"  interrupted  one  of  the  young 
men.  "Captain  Kalph  told  us  all  about  that;  but  he  said 
thar  war  nobody  at  Lexington  believed  the  story." 

"Then,"  said  Nathan,  meekly,  "it  may  be  that  the  man 
was  mistaken.  Yet  persons  should  have  a  care,  for  there 
is  Injun  sign  all  along  the  Kentucky.  But  that  is  my 
story.  And  now,  friend  Thomas,  if  thee  will  give  me  lead 
and  powder  for  my  skins,  I  will  be  gone,  and  trouble  thee 
no  longer." 

"It's  a  sin  and  a  shame  to  waste  them  on  a  man  who 
only  employs  them  to  kill  deer,  b'ar,  and  turkey,"  said 
Bruce ;  "yet  a  man  mustn't  starve,  even  whar  he's  a  Quaker. 
So  go  you  along  with  my  son  Dick  thar,  to  the  store,  and 
he'll  give  you  the  value  of  your  plunder.  A  poor,  miser- 
able brute,  thar's  no  denying,"  he  continued  contempt- 
uously,  as  Nathan,  obeying  the  direction,  followed  Bruce's 
second  son  into  the  fortress.  "The  man  has  some  spirit 
now  and  then ;  but  whar's  the  use  of  it,  while  he's  nothing 
but  a  no-fight  Quaker?  I  tried  to  reason  him  out  of  his 
notions;  but  thar  war  no  use  in  trying,  no  how  I  could 
work  it.  I  have  an  idea  about  these  Quakers " 

But  here  luckily  the  worthy  colonel's  idea  was  suddenly 
put  to  flight  by  the  appearance  of  Telie  Doe,  who  came 
stealing  through  the  throng  to  summon  him  to  his  even- 
ing meal — a  call  which  neither  he  nor  his  guest  was  indis- 
posed to  obey;  and  taking  Telie  by  the  hand  in  a  paternal 
manner,  he  ushered  the  young  soldier  back  into  the  fort. 

The  girl,  Roland  observed,  had  changed  her  attire  at  the 
bidding  of  her  protector,  and  now,  though  dressed  with 
the  greatest  simplicity,  appeared  to  more  advantage  than 
before.  He  thought  her,  indeed,  quite  handsome;  and 
pitying  her  more  than  orphan  condition,  he  endeavored 
to  show  her  such  kindness  as  was  in  his  power,  by  address- 
ing to  her  some  complimentary  remarks  as  he  walked  along 


52  KICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

at  her  side.  His  words,  however,  only  revived  the  terror 
she  seemed  really  to  experience  whenever  any  one  ac- 
costed her;  seeing  which  he  desisted,  doubting  if  she  de- 
served the  compliment  the  benevolent  Bruce  had  so  recently 
paid  to  her  good  sense. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Then  let  me  go,  and  hinder  not  my  course: 
I'll  be  as  patient  as  a  gentle  stream, 
And  make  a  pastime  of  each  weary  step. 

— Two   Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

THE  evening  meal  being  concluded,  and  a  few  brief  mo- 
ments devoted  to  conversation  with  her  new  friends,  Edith 
was  glad  when,  at  a  hint  from  her  kinsman  as  to  the  early 
hour  appointed  for  setting  out  on  the  morrow,  she  was  per- 
mitted to  seek  the  rest  of  which  she  stood  in  need.  Her 
chamber — and,  by  a  rare  exercise  of  hospitality,  the  merit 
of  which  she  appreciated,  since  she  was  sensible  it  could 
not  have  been  made  without  sacrifice,  she  occupied  it  alone 
— boasted  few  of  the  luxuries,  few  even  of  the  comforts,  to 
which  she  had  been  accustomed  in  her  native  land  and  her 
father's  house.  But  misfortune  had  taught  her  spirit 
humility;  and  the  recollection  of  nights  passed  in  the 
desert  with  only  a  thin  mattress  betwixt  her  and  the  naked 
earth,  and  a  little  tent  cloth  and  the  boughs  of  trees  to 
protect  her  from  the  inclement  skies,  caused  her  to  regard 
her  present  retreat  with  such  feelings  of  satisfaction  as  she 
,  might  have  indulged  if  in  the  chamber  of  a  palace. 

She  was  followed  to  the  apartment  by  a  bevy  of  the  fair 
Bruces,  all  solicitous  to  render  her  such  assistance  as  they 
could,  and  all,  perhaps,  equally  anxious  to  indulge  their 
admiration,  for  the  second  or  third  time,  over  the  slender 
store  of  finery  which  Edith  good-naturedly  opened  to  their 
inspection.  In  this  way  the  time  fled  amain  until  Mrs. 
Bruce,  more  considerate  than  her  daughters,  and  some- 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

what  scandalized  by  the  loud  commendations  which  they 
passed  on  sundry  articles  of  dress  such  as  were  never  be- 
fore seen  in  Kentucky,  rushed  into  the  chamber  and  drove 
them  manfully  away. 

"Poor,  ignorant  critturs!"  said  she,  by  way  of  apology, 
"they  knows  no  better;  thar's  the  mischief  of  being  raised 
in  the  backwoods.  They'll  never  Farn  to  be  genteel,  thar's 
so  many  common  persons  comes  out  here  with  their  daugh- 
ters. I'm  sure  I  do  my  best  to  1'arn  'em." 

With  these  words  she  tendered  her  own  good  offices  to 
Edith,  which  the  young  lady  declining  with  many  thanks, 
she  bade  her  good  night,  and,  to  Edith's  great  relief,  left 
her  to  herself.  A  few  moments  then  sufficed  to  complete 
her  preparations  for  slumber,  which  being  effected,  she 
threw  herself  on  her  knees  to  implore  the  further  favor  of 
the  orphan's  Friend,  who  had  conducted  her  so  far  in  safety 
on  her  journey. 

Whilst  thus  engaged,  her  mind  absorbed  in  the  solemn 
duty,  she  failed  to  note  that  another  visitor  had  softly 
stolen  into  the  apartment;  and  accordingly,  when  she  rose 
from  her  devotions,  and  beheld  a  female  figure  standing 
in  the  distance,  though  regarding  her  with  both  reverence 
and  timidity,  she  could  not  suppress  an  exclamation  of 
alarm. 

"Do  not  be  afraid, — it  is  only  Telie  Doe/'  said  the  visitor 
with  a  low  and  trembling  voice :  "I  thought  you  would  want 
some  one  to — to  take  the  candle." 

"You  are  very  good,"  replied  Edith,  who  having  scarcely 
before  observed  the  humble  and  retiring  maid,  and  sup- 
posing her  to  be  one  of  her  host's  children,  had  little  doubt 
she  had  stolen  in  to  indulge  her  curiosity  like  the  others, 
although  at  so  late  a  moment,  as  to  authorize  a  little 
cruelty  on  the  part  of  the  guset.  "I  am  very  tired  and 
sleepy,"  she  said,  creeping  into  bed,  hoping  that  the  con- 
fession would  be  understood  and  accepted  as  an  apology. 
She  then,  seeing  that  Telie  did  not  act  upon  the  hint,  in- 
timated that  she  had  no  further  occasion  for  the  light,  and 
bade  her  good  night.  But  Telie,  instead  of  departing, 


54'  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

maintained  her  stand  at  the  little  rude  table,  where,  be- 
sides the  candle,  were  several  articles  of  apparel  that  Edith 
had  laid  out  in  readiness  for  the  morning,  and  upon  which 
she  thought  the  girl's  eyes  were  fixed. 

"If  you  had  come  a  little  earlier,"  said  Edith,  with  un- 
failing good-nature,  "I  should  have  been  glad  to  show  you 
any  thing  I  have.  But  now,  indeed,  it  is  too  late,  and  all 
my  packages  are  made  up " 

"It  is  not  that/'  interrupted  the  maiden  hastily,  but 
with  trepidation.  "No,  I  did  not  want  to  trouble  you. 
But " 

"But  what?''  demanded  Edith,  with  surprise,  yet  with 
kindness,  for  she  observed  the  agitation  of  the  speaker. 

"Lady,"  said  Telie,  mustering  resolution,  and  stepping 
to  the  bedside,  "if  you  will  not  be  angry  with  me  I  would — 
I  Would " 

"You  would  ask  a  favor,  perhaps?"  said  Edith,  en- 
couraging her  with  a  smile. 

"Yes,  that  is  it,"  replied  the  girl,  dropping  on  her  knees, 
not  so  much,  however,  as  it  appeared  from  abasement  of 
spirit,  as  to  bring  her  lips  nearer  to  Edith's  ear,  that  she 
might  speak  in  a  low  voice.  "I  know,  from  what  they  say, 
you  are  a  great  lady,  and  that  you  once  had  many  people  to 
wait  upon  you ;  and  now  you  are  in  the  wild  woods  among 
strangers,  and  none  about  you  but  men."  Edith  replied 
with  a  sigh,  and  Telie  timorously  grasping  at  the  hand 
lying  nearest  her  own,  murmured  eagerly,  "If  you  would 
but  take  me  with  you,  I  am  used  to  the  woods  and  I  would 
be  your  servant." 

"You  ?"  exclaimed  Edith,  her  surprise  getting  the  better 
of  her  sadness.  "Your  mother  would  surely  never  con- 
sent to  your  being  a  servant  ?" 

"My  mother?"  muttered  Telie — "I  have  no  mother — 
no  relations." 

"What I  Mr.  Bruce  is  not  then  your  father?" 

"No-— I  have  no  father.  Yes — that  is,  I  have  a  father; 
but  he  has — he  has  turned  Indian." 

These  words  were  whispered  rather  than  spoken,  yet 


NICK   OF   THE    WOODS.  55 

whispered  with  a  tone  of  grief  and  shame  that  touched 
Edith's  feelings.  Her  pity  was  expressed  in  her  coun- 
tenance, and  Telie,  reading  the  gentle  sympathy  infused 
into  every  lovely  feature,  hent  over  the  hand  she  had 
clasped,  and  touched  it  with  her  lips. 

"I  have  told  you  the  truth/'  she  said,  mournfully;  "one 
like  me  should  not  be  ashamed  to  be  a  servant.  And  so, 
lady,  if  you  will  take  me  I  will  go  with  you  and  serve  you ; 
and,  poor  and  ignorant  as  I  am,  I  can  serve  you, — yes, 
ma'am,"  she  added  eagerly,  "I  can  serve  you  more  and 
better  than  you  think, — indeed,  indeed  I  can." 

"Alas,  poor  child,"  said  Edith,  "I  am  one  who  must 
learn  to  do  without  attendance  and  service.  I  have  no 
home  to  give  you." 

"I  have  heard  it  all,"  said  Telie ;  "but  I  can  live  in  the 
woods  with  you  till  you  have  a  house ;  and  then  I  can  work 
for  you,  and  you'll  never  repent  taking  me, — no,  indeed, 
for  I  know  all  that's  to  be  done  by  a  woman  in  a  new  land, 
and  you  don't ;  and  indeed,  if  you  have  none  to  help  you  it 
would  kill  you,  it  would  indeed ;  for  it  is  a  hard  time  in  the 
woods  for  a  woman  that  has  been  brought  up  tenderly." 

"Alas,  child,"  said  Edith,  perhaps  a  little  pettishly,  for 
she  liked  not  to  dwell  upon  such  gloomy  anticipations, 
"why  should  you  be  discontented  with  the  home  you  have 
already?  Surely,  there  are  none  here  unkind  to  you?" 

"No,"  replied  the  maiden,  "they  are  very  good  to  me, 
and  Mr.  Bruce  has  been  a  father  to  me.  But  then  I  am 
not  his  child,  and  it  is  wrong  for  me  to  live  upon  him,  who 
has  so  many  children  of  his  own.  And  then  my  father — 
all  talk  of  my  father ;  all  the  people  here  hate  him,  though 
he  has  never  done  them  any  harm,  and  I  know, — yes,  I 
know  it  well  enough,  though  they  won't  believe  it, — that 
he  keeps  the  Indians  from  hurting  them;  but  they  hate 
hire  and  curse  him ;  and,  oh !  I  wish  I  was  away,  where  I 
should  never  hear  them  speak  of  him  more.  Perhaps  they 
don't  know  any  thing  about  him  at  the  Falls,  and  then 
there  will  be  nobody  to  call  me  the  white  Indian's  daugh- 
ter." 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"And  does  Mr.  Bruce  or  his  wife  know  of  your  desire  to 
leave  him?" 

"No,"  said  Telie,  her  terrors  reviving;  "but  if  you 
should  ask  them  for  me  then  they  would  agree  to  let  me 
go.  He  told  the  captain, — that's  Captain  Forrester, — he 
would  do  any  thing  for  him ;  and  indeed  he  would,  for  he 
is  a  good  man,  and  he  will  do  what  he  says." 

"How  strange,  how  improper,  nay,  how  ungrateful  then, 
if  he  be  a  good  man,"  said  Edith,  "that  you  should  wish  to 
leave  him  and  his  kind  family,  to  live  among  persons  en- 
tirely unknown.  Be  content,  my  poor  maid.  You  have 
little  save  imaginary  evils  to  afflict  you.  You  are  happier 
here  than  you  can  be  among  strangers." 

Telie  clasped  her  hands  in  despair.  "I  shall  never  be 
happy  here,  nor  any  where.  But  take  me,"  she  added 
eagerly,  "take  me  for  your  own  sake ; — for  it  will  be  good 
for  you  to  have  me  with  you  in  the  woods,  it  will,  indeed  it 
will." 

"It  cannot  be,"  said  Edith  gently. 

But  the  maiden  would  scarce  take  a  refusal.  Her  terrors 
had  been  dissipated  by  her  having  ventured  so  far  on 
speech,  and  she  now  pursued  her  object  with  an  imploring 
and  passionate  earnestness  that  both  surprised  and  em- 
barrassed Edith,  while  it  increased  her  sympathy  for  the 
poor  bereaved  pleader.  She  endeavored  to  convince  her, 
if  not  of  the  utter  folly  of  her  desires,  at  least  of  the  im- 
possibility there  was  on  her  part  of  granting  them.  She 
succeeded,  however,  in  producing  conviction  only  on  one 
point :  Telie  perceived  that  her  suit  was  not  to  be  granted ; 
of  which,  as  soon  as  she  was  satisfied,  she  left  off  entreaty 
and  rose  to  her  feet  with  a  saddened  and  humbled  visage, 
and  then,  taking  up  the  candle,  she  left  the  fair  stranger 
to  her  repose. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Eoland  also  was  preparing  for  slum- 
ber; and  finding,  as  indeed  he  could  not  avoid  seeing,  that 
the  hospitality  of  his  host  had  placed  the  males  of  the 
family  under  the  necessity  of  taking  their  rest  in  the  open 
air  on  the  porch,  he  insisted  upon  passing  the  night  in  the 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  57 

same  place  in  their  company.  In  fact,  the  original  habi- 
tation of  the  back-woodsmen  seldom  boasted  more  than  two 
rooms  in  all,  and  these  none  of  the  largest ;  and  when  emi- 
grants arrived  at  a  station  there  was  little  attempt  made 
to  find  shelter  for  any  save  their  women  and  children,  to 
whom  the  men  of  the  settlement  readily  gave  up  their  own 
quarters,  to  share  those  of  their  male  visitors  under  the, 
blanket-tents  which  were  spread  before  the  doors.  This, 
to  men  who  had  thus  passed  the  nights  for  several  weeks J 
in  succession,  was  any  thing  but  hardship;  and  when  the 
weather  was  warm  and  dry,  they  could  congratulate  them- 
selves on  sleeping  in  greater  comfort  than  their  sheltered 
companions. 

Of  this  Forrester  was  well  aware,  and  he  took  an  early 
period  to  communicate  his  resolution  of  rejecting  the  un- 
manly luxury  of  a  bed,  and  sleeping  like  a  soldier,  wrapped 
in  his  cloak,  with  his  saddle  for  a  pillow.  In  this  way  the 
night  proving  unexpectedly  sultry,  he  succeeded  in  enjoy- 
ing more  delightful  and  refreshing  slumbers  than  blessed 
his  kinswoman  in  her  bed  of  down.  The  song  of  the 
katydid  and  the  cry  of  the  whip-poor-will  came  more 
sweetly  to  his  ears  from  the  adjacent  woods ;  and  the  breeze 
that  had  stirred  a  thousand  leagues  of  forest  in  its  flight, 
whispered  over  his  cheek  with  a  more  enchanting  music 
than  it  made  among  the  chinks  and  crannies  of  the  wall 
by  Edith's  bedside.  A  few  idle  dreams — recollections  of 
home,  mingled  with  the  anticipated  scenes  of  the  future, 
the  deep  forest,  the  wild  beast,  and  the  lurking  Indian, — 
amused,  without  harassing  his  sleeping  mind;  and  it  was 
not  until  the  first  gray  of  dawn  that  he  experienced  any 
interruption. 

He  started  up  suddenly,  his  ears  still  tingled  with  the 
soft  tones  of  an  unknown  voice,  which  had  whispered  in 
them,  "Cross  the  river  by  the  Lower  Ford — there  is  danger 
at  the  Upper." 

He  stared  around,  but  saw  nothing ;  all  was  silent  around 
him,  save  the  deep  breathing  of  the  sleepers  at  his  side. 

"Who  spoke?"  he  demanded  in  a  whisper,  but  received 


58  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

no  reply.  "Biver — Upper  and  Lower  Ford; — danger? — " 
he  muttered:  "now  I  would  have  sworn  some  one  spoke 
to  me;  and  yet  I  must  have  dreamed  it.  Strange  things, 
dreams — thoughts  in  freedom  loosed  from  the  chains  of 
association — temporary  mad  fits  undoubtedly;  marvellous 
impressions  they  produce  on  the  organs  of  sense ;  see,  hear, 
smell,  taste,  touch,  more  exquisitely  without  the  organs 
than  with  them.  What's  the  use  of  organs?  There's  the 
poser — I  think, — I "  but  here  he  ceased  thinking  al- 
together, his  philosophy  having  served  the  purpose  such 
philosophy  usually  does,  and  wrapped  him  a  second  time 
in  the  arms  of  Morpheus.  He  opened  his  eyes  almost  im- 
mediately, as  he  thought;  but  his  morning  nap  had  lasted 
half  an  hour;  the  dawn  was  already  purple  and  violet  in 
the  sky,  his  companions  had  left  his  side,  and  the  hum  of 
voices  and  the  sound  of  footsteps  in  and  around  the  sta- 
tion, told  him  that  his  fellow-exiles  were  already  preparing 
to  resume  their  journey. 

"A  brave  morrow  to  you,  captain  I"  said  the  commander 
of  the  fortress,  the  thunder  of  whose  footsteps,  as  he  ap- 
proached the  house  with  uncommonly  fierce  strides,  had, 
perhaps,  broken  his  slumbers.  A  frown  was  on  his  brow, 
and  the  grasp  of  his  hand,  in  which  every  finger  seemed 
doing  the  duty  of  a  boa-constrictor,  spoke  of  a  spirit  up  in 
arms,  and  wrestling  with  passion. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Roland. 

"Matter  that  consarns  you  and  me  more  than  any  other 
two  persons  in  the  etarnal  world !"  said  Bruce,  with  such 
energy  of  utterance  as  nothing  but  rage  could  supply. 
"Thar  has  been  a  black  wolf  in  the  pin-fold, — alias,  as 
they  used  to  say  at  the  court-house,  Captain  Ealph  Stack- 
pole  ;  and  the  end  of  it  is,  war  I  never  to  tell  another  truth 
in  my  life,  that  your  blooded  brown  horse  has  absquotu- 
lated!" 

"Absquatulated!"  echoed  Forrester,  amazed  as  much  at 
the  word  as  at  the  fierce  visage  of  his  friend, — "What  is 
that?  Is  the  horse  hurt?" 

"Stolen  away,  sir,  by  the  etarnal  Old  Scratch !     Carried 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  59 

off  by  Roaring  Ralph  Stackpole,  while  I,  like  a  brute,  war 
sound  a-sleeping!  And  h'yar's  the  knavery  of  the  thing, 
sir!  the  unpronounceable  rascality,  sir! — I  loaned  the 
brute  one  of  my  own  critturs,  just  to  be  rid  of  him,  and  to 
have  him  out  of  harm's  way ;  for  I  had  a  forewarning,  the 
brute,  that  his  mouth  war  a-watering  after  the  new  beasts 
in  the  pin-fold,  and  after  the  brown  horse  in  partickelar! 
And  so  I  loaned  him  a  horse,  and  set  him  off  to  Logan's. 
Well,  sir,  and  what  does  the  brute  do  but  ride  off,  for  a 
make-believe,  to  set  us  easy ;  for  he  knew,  the  brute,  if  he 
war  in  sight  of  us,  we  should  have  had  guards  over  the 
cattle  all  night  long ;  well,  sir,  down  he  sot  in  ambush  till 
all  war  quiet ;  and  then  he  stole  back,  and  turning  my  own, 
horse  among  the  others,  as  if  to  say,  Thar's  the  beast  that 
I  borrowed,' — it  war  a  wonder  the  brute  war  so  honest! — 
picked  the  best  of  the  gathering,  your  blooded  brown  horse, 
sir !  and  all  the  while  I  war  sleeping  like  a  brute,  and  leav- 
ing the  guest  in  my  own  house  to  be  robbed  by  Captain 
Ralph  Stackpole,  the  villain !" 

"If  it  be  possible  to  follow  the  rascal,"  said  Roland,  giv- 
ing way  to  wrath  himself,  "I  must  do  so,  and  without  a 
moment's  delay.  I  would  to  heaven  I  had  known  this 
earlier." 

"Whar  war  the  use,"  said  Bruce,  "whar  war  the  use  of 
disturbing  a  tired  man  in  his  nap,  and  he  a  guest  of  mine 
too?" 

"The  advantage  would  have  been,"  said  Roland,  a  little 
testily,  "that  the  pursuit  could  have  been  instantly  be- 
gun." 

"And  whar  it  not!"  said  the  colonel.  "Thar  war  not 
two  minutes  lost  after  the  horse  was  missing  afore  my  son 
Tom  and  a  dozen  more  of  the  best  woodsmen  war  mounted 
on  the  fleetest  horses  in  the  settlement  and  galloping  after, 
right  on  the  brute's  trail." 

"Thanks,  my  friend,"  said  Roland,  with  a  cordial  grasp 
of  hand,  "the  horse  will  be  recovered  ?" 

"Thar's  no  denying  it,"  said  Bruce,  "if  a  fresh  leg  can 
outrun  a  weary  one;  and  besides,  the  brute  war  not  con- 


60  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

tent  with  the  best  horse,  but  he  must  have  the  second  best 
too,  that's  Major  Smalleye's  two-y'ar-old  pony.  He  has 
an  eye  for  a  horse,  the  etarnal  skirmudgeon !  but  the  pony 
will  be  the  death  of  him;  for  he's  skeary,  and  will  keep 
Ralph  slow  in  the  path.  No,  sir,  we  will  have  your  brown 
horse  before  you  can  say  Jack  Robinson.  But  the  intoler- 
ability  of  the  thing,  sir,  is  that  Ralph  Stackpole  should 
steal  my  guest's  horse,  sir !  But  it's  the  end  of  his  thiev- 
ing, the  brute,  or  thar's  no  snakes !  I  told  him  Lynch  war 
out,  the  brute,  and  I  told  the  boys  to  take  care  I  war  not 
found  lying;  and  I  reckon  they  won't  forget  me!  I  like 
the  crittur,  thar's  no  denying,  for  he's  a  screamer  among 
Injuns !  but  thar's  no  standing  a  horse-thief !  no,  sir,  thar's 
no  standing  a  horse-thief !" 

The  only  evil  consequence  of  this  accident  which  was 
apprehended,  was,  that  the  march  of  the  exiles  must  be 
delayed  until  the  soldier's  horse  was  recovered,  or  Roland 
himself  left  behind  until  the  animal  was  brought  in;  un- 
less, indeed,  he  chose  to  accept  another  freely  offered  him 
by  his  gallant  host,  and  trust  to  having  his  own  charger 
restored  on  some  future  occasion.  He  was  himself  unwill- 
ing that  the  progress  of  more  than  a  hundred  human 
beings  towards  the  long-sighed-for  land  of  promise  should 
be  delayed  a  moment  on  his  account;  and  for  this  reason 
he  exhorted  his  nominal  superior  to  hasten  the  preparations 
for  departure  without  thinking  of  him. 

His  first  resolution  in  relation  to  his  own  course  was  to 
proceed  with  the  company,  leaving  his  horse  to  be  sent  after 
him  when  recovered.  He  was  loath,  however,  to  leave  the 
highly-prized  and  long-tried  charger  behind;  and  Colonel 
Bruce  taking  advantage  of  the  feeling,  and  representing 
the  openness  and  safety  of  the  road,  the  shortness  of  the 
day's  journey  (for  the  next  station  at  which  the  exiles  in- 
tended lodging  was  scarcely  twenty  miles  distant),  and 
above  all.  promising,  if  he  remained,  to  escort  him  thither 
with  a  band  of  his  young  men,  to  whom  the  excursion  would 
be  but  an  agreeable  frolic,  the  soldier  changed  his  mind, 
and  in  an  evil  hour,  as  it  afterwards  appeared,  consented 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  61 

to  remain  until  Brown  Briareus  was  brought  in,  provided 
this  should  happen  before  mid-day;  at  which  time,  if  the 
horse  did  not  appear,  it  was  agreed  he  should  set  out, 
trusting  to  his  good  fortune,  and  the  friendly  zeal  of  his 
host  for  the  future  recovery  and  restoration  of  his  charger. 
Later  than  mid-day  he  was  resolved  not  to  remain;  for, 
however  secure  the  road,  it  was  wiser  to  pursue  it  in  com- 
pany than  alone ;  nor  would  he  have  consented  to  remain  a 
moment  had  there  appeared  the  least  impediment  to  his 
joining  the  companions  of  his  exile  before  nightfall. 

His  measures  were  taken  accordingly.  His  baggage- 
horses,  under  the  charge  of  the  younger  of  the  two  negroes., 
were  sent  on  with  the  band ;  the  other,  an  old  and  faithful 
slave  of  his  father,  being  retained  as  an  useful  appendage 
to  a  party  containing  his  kinswoman,  from  whom  he,  of 
course,  saw  no  reason  to  be  separated.  To  Edith  herself 
the  delay  was  far  from  being  disagreeable.  It  promised 
a  gay  and  cheerful  gallop  through  the  forest,  instead  of  the 
dull,  plodding,  funeral-like  march  to  which  she  had  been 
day  after  day  monotonously  accustomed.  She  assented, 
therefore,  to  the  arrangement,  and,  like  her  kinsman,  be- 
held, in  the  fresh  light  of  sunrise,  without  a  sigh,  without 
even  a  single  foreboding  of  evil,  the  departure  of  the 
train  of  emigrants,  with  whom  she  had  journeyed  in  safety 
so  many  long  and  weary  leagues  through  the  desert. 

They  set  out  in  high  spirits  after  shaking  hands  with 
their  hosts  at  the  gates,  and  saluting  them  with  cheers, 
which  they  repeated  in  honor  of  their  young  captain;  and 
in  a  few  moments  the  whole  train  had  vanished,  as  if  swal- 
lowed up  by  the  dark  forest. 


62  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 


CHAPTEB  VI. 

A  fearful  army  rages 
Upon  our  territories;   and  have  already 
O'erborne  their  way,  consumed  with  fire,  and  took 
ihat  lay  before   them. 

— Coriolanus. 

WITHIN  an  hour  after  the  emigrants  had  set  out,  the  sky, 
which  had  previously  been  clear  and  radiant,  began  to  be 
overcast  with  clouds,  dropping  occasional  rains,  which 
Eoland  scarcely  observed  with  regret,  their  effect  on  the 
sultry  atmosphere  being  highly  agreeable  and  refreshing. 
They  continued  thus  to  fall  at  intervals  until  nine  o'clock, 
when  Eoland,  as  he  sat  on  the  porch  debating  with  Bruce 
the  probabilities  of  their  continuance,  was  roused  by  a 
shout  from  the  outer  village,  and,  looking  up,  he  beheld,  to 
his  great  delight,  Richard  Bruce,  the  second  son  of  his 
host,  a  lad  of  sixteen,  ride  into  the  enclosure,  leading  in 
triumph  his  recovered  charger. 

"Thar's  the  brute,  strannger !"  said  he,  with  uncommon 
glee;  "he  war  too  hard  a  hoss  for  Ealph's  riding;  and,  I 
reckon,  if  he  hadn't  been,  you  wouldn't  have  had  him  so 
easy,  for  he's  a  peeler  at  run,  trot,  or  gallop,  he  is,  I 
tell  you !  It's  bad  luck  for  Stackpole  to  be  flung  by  man 
and  beast  two  days  hand-running, — first  by  Bloody  Nathan, 
then  by  a  stolen  crittur!" 

"And  whar  is  the  brute  Stackpole?.  And  what  have 
you  done  with  him  ?"  demanded  Bruce. 

"Thar,  father,  you're  too  hard  for  me/'  replied  the 
youth;  "but  I'll  tell  you  all  I  know  on  it.  You  needn't 
look  at  his  legs,  captain,  for  they're  all  as  sound  as  hickory ; 
the  crittur's  a  bit  worried  with  his  morning's  work;  but 
that's  nothing  to  speak  on." 

The  lad's  story  was  soon  told.  The  track  of  the  horse- 
thief  had  been  followed  through  the  woods;  and  it  was 
soon  seen,  from  its  irregularity,  that  he  had  made  an  un- 
lucky selection  of  beasts,  both  being  so  restive  and  rebellious 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

that  it  was  obvious  he  had  found  it  no  easy  matter  to  urge 
them  along.  A  place  was  found  where  he  appeared  to  have 
been  thrown  by  the  turbulent  Briareus,  which  he  seemed 
afterwards  to  have  pursued,  mounted  on  the  pony,  in  the 
vain  hope  of  retaking  the  mettlesome  charger,  until  per- 
suaded of  his  inability,  or  afraid,  from  the  direction  in 
which  the  animal  had  fled,  of  being  led  back  again  to  the 
settlement.  His  track,  after  abandoning  the  chase,  was  as 
plain  as  that  left  by  the  war-horse,  and  was  followed  by  the 
main  body  of  pursuers;  while  Richard  and  two  or  three 
others,  taking  the  latter,  had  the  good  fortune  to  find  and 
recover  the  animal  as  he  was  solacing  himself,  after  his 
morning  adventures,  in  a  grassy  wood,  scarce  two  miles 
from  the  station.  What  had  become  of  Stackpole  the  lad 
knew  not,  but  had  no  doubt,  as  he  added,  with  a  knowing 
look,  "that  Lynch's  boys  would  soon  give  a  good  account  of 
him;  for  Major  Smalleye  war  as  mad  as  a  beaten  b'ar 
about  the  two-y'ar-old  pony." 

"Well,"  said  the  father,  "I  reckon  the  brute  will  deserve 
all  he  may  come  by;  and  thar's  no  use  in  mourning  him. 
Thar's  as  good  Injun-fighters  as  he  left  in  Kentucky,  thar's 
the  comfort;  and  thar's  no  denying,  men  will  be  much 
easier  about  their  horses." 

With  this  consoling  assurance,  in  which  Roland  saw 
implied  the  visitation  of  the  deadliest  vengeance  on  the 
head  of  the  offender,  Bruce  proceeded  to  congratulate  him 
on  the  recovery  of  Brown  Briareus,  and  to  intimate  his 
readiness,  after  the  animal  had  been  allowed  a  little  rest, 
which  it  evidently  needed,  to  marshal  his  band  of  young 
men,  and  conduct  him  on  his  way  after  the  exiles.  But 
fate  willed  that  the  friendly  intention  should  never  be  put 
into  execution,  and  that  the  young  soldier  should  go  forth 
on  his  pilgrimage  unattended  and  unprotected. 

Within  the  space  of  half  an  hour  the  clouds,  which 
seemed  previously  to  have  discharged  all  their  moisture, 
collected  into  a  dense  canopy,  darkening  the  whole  heaven, 
and  rumbling  with  thunder,  that  became  every  moment 
louder  and  heavier.  Then  came  gusts  of  wind,  groaning 


64  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

through  the  forest,  rattling  among  the  dead  limbs  of  the 
girdled  trees,  and  whistling  over  the  palisades  of  the  fort. 
These  were  succeeded  by  louder  peals  of  thunder,  and  vivid 
flashes  of  lightning,  which  continued  and  increased,  until 
the  tempest,  for  such  it  was,  burst  in  fury,  discharging 
deluges  of  rain,  that  fell  with-unintermitting  violence  until 
an  hour  or  more  after  mid-day. 

This  was  a  circumstance,  which,  as  it  necessarily  de- 
ferred the  moment  of  his  setting  out,  caused  Forrester  a 
little  uneasiness;  but  he  soon  came  to  believe  he  had  rea- 
son to  congratulate  himself  on  its  occurrence,  since  it  was 
scarce  possible  the  band  would  continue  their  journey  in 
such  a  storm;  and,  indeed,  Bruce  was  of  opinion  that  the 
day's  march  would  be  ended  on  the  banks  of  the  river, — 
one  of  the  principal  forks  of  the  Salt, — but  little  more 
than  ten  miles  from  his  station;  where,  if  the  exiles  were 
wise,  they  would  pitch  their  camp,  waiting  for  the  sub- 
sidence of  the  waters.  This  was  a  point  that  Eoland  might 
be  expected  to  reach  in  a  ride  of  three  or  four  hours  at 
most ;  which  consideration  not  only  satisfied  him  under  the 
delay,  but  almost  made  him  resolve  to  defer  his  setting  out 
until  the  following  morning,  that  his  kinswoman  might 
have  the  advantage  of  sleeping  a  second  time  under  the 
shelter  of  a  roof,  rather  than  be  compelled  to  exchange  it 
for  the  chill  and  humid  forest. 

It  was  while  he  was  balancing  this  thought  in  his  mind, 
and  watching  with  a  gladdened  eye  the  first  flash  of  sun- 
shine, breaking  through  the  parted  clouds,  that  a  shout, 
louder  than  that  which  had  proclaimed  the  recovery  of  his 
steed,  but  of  a  wild  and  mournful  character,  arose  from 
the  outer  village,  and  a  horseman,  covered  with  mud,  reek- 
ing with  rain,  and  reeling  in  the  saddle  with  fatigue  and 
exhaustion,  rode  into  the,  fort,  followed  by  a  crowd  of  men, 
women,  and  children,  all  testifying  by  their  looks  and  ex- 
clamations that  he  was  the  bearer  of  alarming  news.  And 
such  indeed  he  was,  as  was  shown  by  the  first  words  he 
answered  in  reply  to  Bruce's  demand,  "What  was  the  mat- 
ter?" 


NICK   OF   THE    WOODS.  65 

'There  are  a  thousand  Indians,"  he  said,  "Shawnees, 
Delawares,  Wyandots,  Miamies, — all  the  tribes  of  the 
North,  laying  siege  to  Bryant's  station,  and  perhaps  at 
this  moment  they  are  burning  and  murdering  at  Lexing- 
ton. Men,  Colonel  Bruce!  send  us  all  your  men  without 
a  moment's  delay ;  and  send  off  for  Logan  and  his  forces ; 
despatch  some  one  who  can  ride,  for  I  can  sit  a  horse  no 
longer." 

"Whar's  Dick  Bruce?"  cried  the  Kentuckian;  and  the 
son  answering,  he  continued,  "Mount  the  roan  long-legs, 
you  brute,  and  ride  to  St.  Asaph's  in  no  time.  Tell  Gunnel 
Logan  what  you  h'ar;  and  add,  that  before  he  can  draw 
girth  I  shall  be  with  every  fighting  man  in  my  fort  on  the 
north  side  of  Kentucky.  Eide,  you  brute,  ride  for  your 
life ;  and  do  you  take  car'  you  come  along  with  the  cunnel ; 
for  it's  time  you  war  trying  your  hand  at  an  Injun  top- 
knot. Eide,  you  brute,  ride !" 

"Wah — wah — wah — wah  !"  whooped  the  boy,  like  a 
young  Indian,  flying  to  obey  the  order,  and  exulting  in 
the  expectation  of  combat. 

"Sound  horn,  you  Samuel  Sharp !"  cried  the  father. 
"You,  Ben  Jones,  and  some  more  of  you,  ride  out  and  rouse 
the  settlements ;  and,  some  of  you  hunt  up  Tom  Bruce  and 
the  regulators ;  it  war  a  pity  they  hanged  Ealph  Stackpole, 
for  he  fights  Injuns  like  a  wolverine.  Tell  all  them  that 
arn't  ready  to  start  to  follow  at  a  hard  gallop,  and  join  me 
at  the  ford  of  Kentucky ;  and  them  that  can't  join  me  thar, 
let  them  follow  to  Lexington;  and  them  that  don't  find 
me  thar,  let  them  follow  to  Bryant's,  or  to  any  whar  whar 
thar's  Injuns!  Hurrah,  you  brutes!  whar's  your  guns 
and  your  horses?  your  knives  and  your  tomahawks? 
If  thar's  a  thousand  Injuns,  or  half  of  'em,  thar's  meat 
for  all  of  you.  Whar's  Ikey  Jones,  the  fifer?  Let's  have 
Yankee-Doodle  and  the  Eogue's  March ;  for,  by  the  'tarnal 
Old  Scratch,  all  them  white  men  that  arn't  a-horseback 
in  twenty-five  minutes  are  rogues  worse  than  red  Injuns ! — 
Hurrah  for  Kentucky!" 

The  spirit  of  the  worthy  officer  of  militia  infused  ani- 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

mation  into  all  bosoms;  and  in  an  instant  the  settlement, 
late  so  peaceful,  resounded  with  the  hum  and  uproar  of 
warlike  preparation.  Horses  were  caught  and  saddled, 
rifles  pulled  from  their  perches,  knives  sharpened,  ammuni- 
tion-pouches and  provender-bags  filled,  and  every  other 
step  taken  necessary  to  the  simple  equipment  of  a  border 
army,  called  to  action  in  an  emergency  so  sudden  and  ur- 
gent. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  intelligence  was  not  without  its 
effects  on  Eoland  Forrester,  who,  seeing  himself  so  unex- 
pectedly deprived  of  the  promised  escort, — for  he  could 
scarce  think,  under  such  circumstances,  of  withdrawing  a 
single  man  from  the  force  called  to  a  duty  so  important, — 
perceived  the  necessity  of  employing  his  own  resources  to 
effect  escape  from  a  position  which  he  now  felt  to  be  em- 
barrassing. He  regretted,  for  the  first  time,  his  separation 
from  the  band  of  emigrants,  and  became  doubly  anxious  to 
follow  them;  for,  if  it  were  true  that  so  large  a  force  of 
Indians  were  really  in  the  district,  there  was  every  rea- 
son to  suppose  they  would,  according  to  their  known  sys- 
tem of  warfare,  divide  into  small  parties,  and  scatter  over 
the  whole  country,  infesting  every  road  and  path ;  and  he 
knew  not  how  soon  some  of  them  might  be  found  following 
on  the  heels  of  the  messenger.  He  took  advantage  of  the 
first  symptom  of  returning  serenity  on  the  part  of  his  host 
to  acquaint  him  with  his  resolution  to  set  out  immediately, 
the  rains  having  ceased,  and  the  clouds  broken  up  and  al- 
most vanished. 

"Lord,  captain,"  said  the  Kentuckian,  "I  hoped  you 
would  have  been  for  taking  a  brush  with  us ;  and  it  war  my 
idea  to  send  a  messenger  after  your  party,  in  hopes  your 
men  would  join  us  in  the  rusty.  Whar  will  they  have 
such  another  chance!  A  thousand  Injuns  ready  cut  and 
dried  for  killing !  Lord,  what  a  fool  I  war  for  not  setting 
more  store  by  that  tale  of  Nathan  Slaughter's!  I  never 
knowed  the  brute  to  lie  in  such  a  case ;  for,  as  he  is  always 
ramping  about  the  woods,  he's  as  good  as  a  paid  scout. 
Howsomever,  the  crittur  didn't  speak  on  his  own  knowl- 


NICK   OF   THE    WOODS. 

edge,  and  that  infarnal  Stackpole  was  just  ripe  from  the 
North  side.  But,  I  say,  captain,  if  your  men  will  fight 
just  tote  'em  back,  stow  away  the  women  behind  the  logs 
here,  and  march  your  guns  after  me ;  and  if  thar's  half  the 
number  of  red  niggers  they  speak  of  to  be  found,  you  shall 
see  an  affa'r  of  a  skrimmage  that  will  be  good  for  your 
wholesome, — you  will,  by  the  etarnal !" 

"If  the  men  are  of  that  mind,"  said  Eoland,  gallantly, 
"I  am  not  the  one  to  balk  them.  I  will,  at  least,  see 
whither  their  inclinations  tend;  and  that  the  matter  may 
the  sooner  be  decided,  I  will  set  out  without  delay." 

"And  we  who  war  to  escort  you,  captain,"  said  the  Ken- 
tuckian,  with  some  embarrassment;  "you're  a  soldier,  cap- 
tain, and  you  see  the  case." 

"I  do;  I  have  no  desire  to  weaken  your  force;  and  I 
trust  no  protection  is  needed." . 

"Not  an  iota;  the  road  is  as  safe  as  the  furrow  of  a 
Virginnie  corn-field, — at  least  till  you  strike  the  lower 
Forks;  and  thar  I've  heard  of  no  rampaging  since  last 
summer;  Til  indamnify  you  against  all  loss  and  mischief, 
— I  will  if  it  war  on  my  salvation !" 

"If  you  could  but  spare  me  a  single  guide/'  said  For- 
rester. 

"Whar's  the  use,  captain?  The  road  is  as  broad  and 
cl'ar  as  a  turnpike  in  the  Old  Dominion ;  it  leads  you,  chock 
up,  right  on  the  Upper  Ford,  whar  thar's  safe  passage  at 
any  moment;  but,  I  reckon,  the  rains  will  make  it  look  a 
little  wrathy  a  while,  and  so  fetch  your  people  to  a  stand- 
still. But  it's  a  pot  soon  full  and  soon  empty,  and  it  will 
be  low  enough  in  the  morning."  , 

"The  Upper  Ford?"  said  Eoland,  his  dream,  for  so  he\ 
esteemed  it,  recurring  to  his  mind ;  "is  there  then  a  Lower 
Ford?" 

"Ay,"  replied  Bruce;  "but  thar's  no  passing  it  in  the 
freshes ;  and  besides  the  place  has  a  bad  name.  It  war  thar 
old  John  Ashburn  pitched  his  station  in  '78;  but  the 
savages  made  murdering  work  of  him,  taking  every  scalp 
in  the  company ;  and  so  it  makes  one  sad-like  to  pass  thar, 


68  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

and  the  more  partickelarly  that  it's  all  natteral  fine  ground 
for  an  ambush.  You'll  see  the  road  when  you  are  six 
miles  deep  in  the  forest,  turning  off  to  the  right,  under  a 
shivered  beech-tree.  You  are  then  four  miles  from  the 
river,  or  thereabouts,  and  just  that  distance,  I  reckon,  from 
your  company.  No,  captain,"  he  repeated,  "the  road  is 
wide  and  open,  and  a  guide  war  mere  lumber  on  your 
hands." 

This  was  a  point,  however,  on  which  the  young  soldier, 
doubly  solicitous  on  his  kinswoman's  account,  to  avoid 
mistake,  was  not  so  easily  satisfied ;  seeing  which,  the  Ken- 
tuckian  yielded  to  his  importunity, — perhaps  somewhat 
ashamed  of  suffering  his  guests  to  depart  entirely  alone, — 
and  began  to  cast  about  him  for  some  suitable  person  who 
could  be  prevailed  upon  to  exchange  the  privilege  of  fight- 
ing the  Indians  for  the  inglorious  duty  of  conducting  way- 
farers through  the  forest.  This  was  no  easy  task,  and  it 
was  not  until  he  assumed  his  military  authority,  as  com- 
mander of  all  the  enrolled  militia-men  in  his  district,  em- 
powered to  make  such  disposition  of  his  forces  as  he  thought 
fit,  that  he  succeeded  in  compelling  the  service  of  one  of 
his  reluctant  followers,  under  whose  guidance  Roland  and 
his  little  party  soon  after  set  out. 

Their  farewells  were  briefly  said,  the  urgent  nature  of 
his  duties  leaving  the  hospitable  Bruce  little  opportunity 
for  superfluous  speech.  He  followed  them,  however,  to  the 
bottom  of  the  hill,  grasped  Roland  by  the  hand;  and  do- 
ing the  same  thing  by  Edith,  as  if  his  conscience  smote 
him  for  dismissing  her  with  so  little  ceremony  and  such 
insufficient  attendance,  he  swore  that  if  any  evil  happened 
to  her  on  the  road  he  would  rest  neither  night  nor  day 
until  he  had  repaired  it,  or  lost  his  scalp  in  the  effort. 

With  this  characteristic  and  somewhat  ominous  farewell, 
he  took  his  leave;  and  the  cousins,  with  their  guide  and 
faithful  servant,  spurred  onwards  at  a  brisk  pace  until  the 
open  fields  of  the  settlement  were  exchanged  for  the  deep 
and  gloomy  woodlands. 


KICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Wilt  them  go  with  me? 

I  pr'ythee  now,   lead  the  way,  without  more  talking. 

— Tempest. 

THE  sun  shone  out  clearly  and  brilliantly;  the  tree- 
tops,  from  which  the  winds  had  already  shaken  the  rain, 
rustled  freshly  to  the  more  moderate  breezes  that  had  suc- 
ceeded them,  and  Eoland,  animated  by  the  change,  by  the 
brisk  pace  at  which  he  was  riding,  and  by  the  hope  of  soon 
overtaking  his  fellow-exiles,  met  the  joyous  looks  of  his 
kinswoman  with  a  countenance  no  longer  disturbed  by 
care. 

And  yet  there  was  a  solemnity  in  the  scene  around  them 
that  might  have  called  for  other  and  more  sombre  feelings. 
The  forest  into  which  they  had  plunged  was  of  the  grand 
and  gloomy  character  which  the  fertility  of  the  soil,  and 
the  absence  of  the  axe  for  a  thousand  years,  imprint  on  the 
western  woodlands,  especially  in  the  vicinity  of  rivers. 
Oaks,  elms  and  walnuts,  tulip-trees  and  beeches,  with  other 
monarchs  of  the  wilderness,  lifted  their  trunks  like  so  many 
pillars,  green  with  mosses  and  ivies,  and  swung  their  ma- 
jestic arms,  tufted  with  mistletoe,  far  overhead,  supporting 
a  canopy — a  series  of  domes  and  arches  without  end — that 
had  for  ages  overshadowed  the  soil.  Their  roots,  often  con- 
cealed by  a  billowy  undergrowth  of  shrubs  and  bushes, 
oftener  by  brakes  of  the  gigantic  and  evergreen  cane,  form- 
ing fences  as  singular  as  they  were,  for  the  most  part,  im- 
penetrable, were  yet  at  times  visible,  where  open  glades 
stretched  through  the  woods,  broken  only  by  buttressed 
trunks,  and  by  the  stems  of  colossal  vines,  hanging  from 
the  boughs  like  cables,  or  the  arms  of  an  Oriental  banyan, 
while  their  luxuriant  tops  rolled  in  union  with  the  leafy 
roofs  that  supported  them.  The  vague  and  shadowy  pros- 
pects opened  by  these  occasional  glades,  stirred  the  imagi- 
nation and  produced  a  feeling  of  solitude  in  the  mind, 


?  NICK   OF   THE    WOODS. 

greater  perhaps  than  would  have  been  felt,  had  the  view 
been  continually  bounded  by  a  green  wall  of  canes. 

The  road,  if  such  it  could  be  called,  through  this  noble 
forest,  was,  like  that  the  emigrants  had  so  long  pursued 
through  the  wilderness,  a  mere  path,  designated  where  the 
wood  watf  open  by  blazes  or  axe-marks  on  the  trees;  and 
where  the  undergrowth  was  dense,  a  narrow-track  cut 
through  the  canes  and  shrubs,  scarcely  sufficient  in  many 
places  to  allow  the  passage  of  two  horsemen  abreast ;  though 
when,  as  was  frequently  the  case,  it  followed  the  ancient 
routes  of  the  bisons  to  fords  and  salt-licks,  it  presented,  as 
Bruce  had  described,  a  wide  and  commodious  highway, 
practicable  even  to  wheeled  carriages. 

The  gait  of  the  little  party  over  this  road  was  at  first 
rapid  and  cheery  enough ;  but  by  and  by,  having  penetrated 
deeper  into  the  wood  where  breezes  and  sunbeams  were 
alike  unknown,  they  found  their  progress  impeded  by  a 
thousand  pools  and  sloughs,  the  consequences  of  the  storm, 
that  stretched  from  brake  to  brake.  These  interruptions 
promised  to  make  the  evening  journey  longer  than  Eoland 
had  anticipated;  but  he  caught  at  intervals  the  fresh  foot- 
prints of  his  comrades  in  the  soil  where  it  was  not  exposed 
to  the  rains,  and  reflected  with  pleasure  that  travelling 
even  at  the  slowest  pace,  he  must  reach  the  ford,  where  he 
expected  to  find  them  encamped,  long  before  dark.  He 
felt,  therefore,  no  uneasiness  at  the  delay;  nor  did  he 
think  any  of  those  obstacles  to  rapid  progress  a  cause  for 
regret,  that  gave  him  the  better  opportunity  to  interchange 
ideas  with  his  fair  kinswoman. 

His  only  concern  arose  from  the  conduct  of  his  guide,  a 
rough,  dark-visaged  man,  who  had  betrayed,  from  the  first 
moment  of  starting,  a  sullen  countenance,  indicative  of  his 
disinclination  to  the  duty  assigned  him,  which  feeling  evi- 
dently grew  stronger  the  further  he  advanced,  notwith- 
standing sundry  efforts  Forrester  made  to  bring  him  into 
a  better  humor.  He  displayed  no  desire  to  enter  into  con- 
versation with  the  soldier,  replying  to  such  questions  as 
were  directed  at  him  with  a  brevity  little  short  of  rudeness ; 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  7 

and  his  smothered  exclamations  of  impatience,  whenever 
his  delicate  followers  slackened  their  pace  at  a  bog  or  gully, 
which  he  had  himself  dashed  through  with  a  manly  con- 
tempt of  mud  and  mire,  somewhat  stirred  the  choler  of  the 
young  captain. 

They  had  perhaps  followed  him  a  distance  of  four  miles 
into  the  forest,  when  the  occurrence  of  a  wider  and  deepei 
pool  than  ordinary  producing  a  corresponding  delay  on  the 
part  of  Koland,  who  was  somewhat  averse  to  plunging  with 
Edith  up  to  the  saddle-girths  in  mire,  drew  from  him  a 
very  unmannerly,  though  not  the  less  hearty  execration  on 
the  delicacy  of  "them  thar  persons,  who/'  as  he  expressed 
it,  "stumped  at  a  mud-hole  as  skearily  as  if  every  tadpole 
in  it  war  a  screeching  Injun." 

Of  this  explosion  of  ill-temper  Eoland  took  no  notice, 
until  he  had,  with  the  assistance  of  Emperor,  the  negro, 
effected  a  safe  passage  for  Edith  over  the  puddle,  in  the 
course  of  which  he  had  leisure  to  observe  that  the  path  now 
struck  into  a  wide  buffalo-street,  that  swept  away  through 
a  wilderness  of  wood  and  cane-brake,  in  nearly  a  straight 
line  for  a  considerable  distance.  He  observed  also,  that 
the  road  looked  drier  and  less  broken  than  usual ;  his  satis- 
faction at  which  had  the  good  effect  of  materially  abating^ 
the  rage  into  which  he  had  been  thrown  by  the  uncivil 
bearing  of  the  guide.  Nevertheless,  he  had  no  sooner 
brought  his  kinswoman  safely  to  land,  than  leaving  her  in 
the  charge  of  Emperor,  he  galloped  up  to  the  side  of  his 
conductor,  and  gave  vent  to  his  indignation  in  the  follow- 
ing pithy  query: 

"My  friend/'  said  he,  "will  you  have  the  goodness  to  in- 
form me  whether  you  have  ever  lived  in  a  land  where  cour- 
tesy to  strangers,  and  kindness  and  respect  to  women,  are 
ranked  among  the  virtues  of  manhood?" 

The  man  replied  only  by  a  fierce  and  angry  stare,  and 
plying  the  ribs  of  his  horse  with  his  heels,  he  dashed  on- 
wards. But  Koland  kept  at  his  side,  not  doubting  that  a 
little  more  wholesome  reproof  would  be  of  profit  to  the  man 
as  well  as  advantageous  to  his  own  interests. 


-W  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"I  ask  that  question,"  he  continued,  "because  a  man 
from  such  a  land,  seeing  strangers,  and  one  of  them  a  fe- 
male, struggling  in  a  bog,  would,  instead  of  standing  upon 
dry  land,  making  disrespectful  remarks,  have  done  his  best 
to  help  them  through  it." 

"Strannger,"  said  the  man,  drawing  up  his  horse,  and 
looking,  notwithstanding  his  anger,  as  if  he  felt  the  rebuke 
to  be  in  a  measure  just,  "I  am  neither  hog  nor  dog,  Injun 
nor  outlandish  niggur,  but  a  man, — a  man,  strannger !  out- 
side and  inside,  in  flesh,  blood,  and  spirit,  just  as  my 
Maker  made  me;  though  thar  may  be  something  of  the 
scale-bark  and  parsimmon  about  me,  I'll  not  deny ;  for  I've 
heer'd  on  it  before.  I  axes  the  lady's  pardon  if  I  have 
offended;  and  thar's  the  eend  on't." 

"The  end  of  it,"  said  Forrester,  "will  be  much  more 
satisfactory,  if  you  give  no  further  occasion  for  complaint. 
But  now,"  he  continued,  Edith  drawing  nigh,  "let  us  ride 
on,  and  as  fast  as  you  like,  for  the  road  seems  both  open  and 
good." 

"Strannger,"  said  the  guide,  without  budging  an  inch, 
"you  have  axed  me  a  question;  and  according  to  the  fa'r 
rule  of  the  woods,  it's  my  right  to  ax  you  another." 

"Very  well,"  said  Koland,  assenting  to  the  justice  of  the 
rule ;  "ask  it  and  be  brief." 

"What  you  war  saying  of  the  road  is  true ;  thar  it  goes, 
wide,  open,  cl'ar,  and  straight,  with  as  good  a  fence  on 
both  sides  of  it  to  keep  in  stragglers,  as  war  ever  made  of 
ash,  oak,  or  chestnut  rails, — though  it's  nothing  but  a 
natteral  bank  of  cane-brake;  and  so  it  runs,  jest  as  cl'ar 
and  wide,  all  the  way  to  the  river." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  was  the  soldier's  reply;  "but 
now  for  your  question?" 

"H'yar  it  is,"  said  the  man,  flinging  out  his  hand  with 
angry  energy,  "I  wants  to  ax  of  you,  as  a  sodger,  for  I've 
heer'd  you're  of  the  reggelar  sarvice,  whether  it's  a  wiser 
and  more  Christian  affa'r,  when  thar's  Injuns  in  the  land 
a  murdering  of  your  neighbor's  wives  and  children,  and  all 
the  settlements  in  a  screech  and  a  cry,  to  send  an  able- 


NICK    OP    THE    WOODS.  73 

bodied  man  to  fight  them ;  or  to  tote  him  off  a  day's  journey 
thar  and  back  ag'in,  to  track  a  road  that  a  blind  man  on  a 
blind  horse  could  travel,  without  axing  questions  of  any 
body?  Thar's  my  question/'  he  added,  somewhat  vehe- 
mently; "and  now  let's  have  a  sodger's  answer!" 

"My  good  friend,"  said  Roland,  a  little  offended,  and  yet 
more  embarrassed  by  the  interrogatory,  "none  can  tell  bet- 
ter than  yourself  how  much  or  how  little  occasion  I  may 
have  for  a  guide.  Your  question,  therefore,  I  leave  you  to 
answer  yourself.  If  you  think  your  duty  calls  you  to 
abandon  a  woman  in  the  wild  woods  to  such  guidance  as 
one  wholly  unacquainted  with  them  can  give,  you  can  de- 
part as  soon  as  you  think  fit;  for  I  cannot " 

The  guide  gave  him  no  time  to  finish  the  sentence. 
"You're  right,  strannger,"  he  cried ;  "thar  is  your  road,  as 
plain  as  the  way  up  a  hickory,  b'aring  to  a  camp  of  old 
friends  and  acquaintances, — and  h'yar  is  mine,  running 
right  slap  among  fighting  Injuns !" 

And  with  that  he  turned  his  horse's  head,  and  flourishing 
his  right  hand,  armed  with  the  ever-constant  rifle,  above  his 
own,  and  uttering  a  whoop  expressive  of  the  wild  pleasure 
he  felt  at  being  released  from  his  ignoble  duty,  he  dashed 
across  the  pool,  and  galloped  in  a  moment  out  of  sight, 
leaving  Roland  and  his  party  confounded  at  the  desertion. 

"An  outlandish  niggur!"  muttered  old  Emperor,  on 
whom  this  expression  of  the  guide  had  produced  no  very 
favorable  effect ;  "guess  the  gemman  white-man  is  a  niggur 
himself,  and  a  rogue,  and  a  potater,  or  whatsomever  you 
call  'em!  Leab  a  lady  and  a  gemman  lost  in  the  woods, 
and  neither  take  'em  on  nor  take  'em  back ! — lor-a-massy !" 

To  this  half-soliloquized  expression  of  indignation  the 
soldier  felt  inclined  to  add  a  few  bitter  invectives  of  his 
own ;  but  Edith,  treating  the  matter  lightly,  and  affecting 
to  be  better  pleased  at  the  rude  man's  absence  than  she 
had  been  with  his  company,  he  abated  his  own  wrath,  and 
acknowledged  that  the  desertion  afforded  the  best  proof  of 
the  safety  of  the  road;  since  he  could  not  believe  that  the 
fellow,  with  all  his  roughness  and  inhumanity,  would  have 


74  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

been  so  base  as  to  leave  them,  while  really  surrounded  by 
difficulty.  He  remembered  enough  of  Brace's  description 
of  the  road,  which  he  had  taken  care  should  be  minute  and 
exact,  to  feel  persuaded  that  the  principal  obstructions 
were  now  over,  and  that,  as  the  guide  had  said,  there  was 
no  possibility  of  wandering  from  the  path. 

They  had  already  travelled  nearly  half  the  distance  to  the 
river,  and  to  accomplish  the  remainder  they  had  yet  four 
hours  of  daylight.  He  saw  no  reason  why  they  should  not 
proceed  alone,  trusting  to  their  good  fate  for  a  fortunate 
issue  to  the  enterprise.  To  return  to  the  fort  would  be 
only  to  separate  themselves  further  from  their  friends, 
without  insuring  them  a  better  guide,  or,  indeed,  any 
guide  at  all,  since  it  was  highly  probable  they  would  find 
it  only  occupied  by  women  and  children.  In  a  word,  he 
satisfied  himself  that  nothing  remained  for  him  but  to  con- 
tinue his  journey,  and  trust  to  his  own  sagacity  to  end  it 
to  advantage. 

He  set  out  accordingly,  followed  by  Edith  and  Emperor, 
the  latter  bringing  up  the  rear  in  true  military  style,  and 
handling  his  rifle  as  if  almost  desirous  of  finding  an  op- 
portunity to  use  it  in  the  service  of  his  young  mistress. 

In  this  manner  they  travelled  onwards  with  but  little  in- 
terruption for  more  than  a  mile;  and  Eoland  was  begin- 
ning anxiously  to  look  for  the  path  that  led  to  the  Lower 
Ford,  when  Emperor  galloped  to  the  van  and  brought  the 
party  to  a  halt,  by  reporting  that  he  heard  the  sound  of 
hoofs  following  at  a  distance  behind. 

"Perhaps — perhaps,"  said  Edith,  while  the  gleam  of  her 
eye,  shining  with  sudden  pleasure,  indicated  how  little 
real  satisfaction  she  had  felt  at  the  desertion  c^  their  con- 
ductor— "perhaps  it  is  the  sour  fellow,  the  guide,  coming 
back,  ashamed  of  his  misconduct." 

"We  shall  soon  see,"  said  Eoland,  turning  his  horse  to 
reconnoitre;  a  proceeding  that  was,  however,  rendered  un- 
necessary by  the  hurried  speed  of  the  comer,  who,  dashing 
suddenly  round  a  bend  in  the  road,  disclosed  to  his  won- 
dering eyes,  not  the  tall  frame  and  sullen  aspect  of  tJae 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  7 

guide,  but  the  lighter  figure  and  fairer  visage  of  the  girl, 
Telie  Doe.  She  was  evidently  arrayed  for  travel,  having 
donned  her  best  attire  of  blue  cloth,  with  a  little  cap  of  the 
same  color  on  her  head,  under  which  her  countenance,  beam- 
ing with  exercise  and  anxiety,  looked,  in  both  Roland's 
and  Edith's  eyes,  extremely  pretty,  much  more  so,  indeed, 
than  either  had  deemed  her  to  be ;  while  secured  behind  the 
cushion,  or  pillon,  on  which  she  rode — for  not  a  jot  of 
saddle  had  she — was  a  little  bundle,  containing  such 
worldly  comforts  as  were  necessary  to  one  seriously  bent 
upon  a  journey. 

She  was  mounted  upon  a  sprightly  pony,  which  she 
managed  with  more  address  and  courage  than  would  have 
been  augured  from  her  former  timorous  demeanor;  and  it 
was  plain  that  she  had  put  him  to  his  mettle  through  the 
woods,  with  but  little  regard  to  the  sloughs  and  puddles 
which  had  so  greatly  embarrassed  the  fair  Edith.  Indeed, 
it  appeared  that  the  exercise  which  had  infused  animation 
into  her  countenance  had  bestowed  a  share  also  on  her 
spirit ;  for  having  checked  her  horse  an  instant,  and  looked 
a  little  abashed  at  the  sudden  sight  of  the  strangers,  she 
recovered  herself  in  a  moment,  and  riding  boldly  up,  pro- 
ceeded, without  waiting  to  be  questioned,  to  explain  the 
cause  of  her  appearance.  She  had  met  the  deserter,  she 
said,  returning  to  the  station,  and  thinking  it  was  not 
right  the  stranger  lady  should  be  left  without  a  guide  in 
the  woods,  she  had  ridden  after  her  to  offer  her  services. 

"It  was  at  least  somewhat  surprising,"  Roland  could  not 
avoid  saying,  "that  the  fellow  should  have  found  you  al- 
ready equipt  in  the  woods  ?" 

At  this  innuendo,  Telie  was  somewhat  embarrassed,  but 
more  so  when,  looking  towards  Edith,  as  if  to  address  her 
reply  to  her,  she  caught  the  inquiring  look  of  the  latter, 
made  still  more  expressive  by  the  recollection  which  Edith 
retained  of  the  earnest  entreaty  Telie  had  made  the  pre- 
ceding night,  to  be  taken  into  her  service. 

"I  will  not  tell  you  a  falsehood,  ma'am,"  she  said  at  last, 
with  a  firm  voice:  "I  was  not  on  the  road  by  chance;  I 


6  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

came  to  follow  you.  I  knew  the  man  you  had  to  guide 
you  was  unwilling  to  go,  and  I  thought  he  would  leave  you, 
as  he  has  done.  And,  besides,  the  road  is  not  so  clear  as  it 
seems;  it  branches  off  to  so  many  of  the  salt-licks,  and  the 
tracks  are  so  washed  away  by  the  rains  that  none  but  one 
that  knows  it  can  be  sure  of  keeping  it  long." 

"And  how,"  inquired  Edith,  very  pointedly — for,  in  her 
heart,  she  suspected  the  little  damsel  was  determined  to 
enter  her  service,  whether  she  would  or  not,  and  had  actu- 
ally run  away  from  her  friends  for  the  purpose, — "how 
after  you  have  led  us  to  our  party,  do  you  expect  to  return 
again  to  your  friends?" 

"If  you  will  let  me  go  with  you  as  far  as  Jackson  station" 
(the  settlement  at  which  it  was  originally  determined  the 
emigrants  should  pass  the  night),  said  the  maiden,  humbly, 
"I  will  find  friends  there  who  will  take  me  home ;  and  per- 
haps our  own  people  will  come  for  me — for  they  are  often 
visiting  about  among  the  stations." 

This  declaration,  made  in  a  tone  that  convinced  Edith 
the  girl  had  gr-2n  over  all  hopes  of  being  received  into  her 
protection,  unless  she  could  remove  opposition  by  the  serv- 
ices she  might  render  on  the  way,  pointed  out  also  an  easy 
mode  of  getting  rid  of  her,  when  a  separation  should  be 
advisable,  and  thus  removed  the  only  objection  she  felt  to 
accept  her  proffered  guidance. 

As  for  Roland,  however,  he  expressed  much  natural  re- 
luctance to  drag  a  young  and  inexperienced  female  so  far 
from  her  home,  leaving  her  afterwards  to  return  as  she 
might.  But  he  perceived  that  her  presence  gave  courage  to 
his  kinswoman ;  he  felt  that  her  acquaintance  with  the  path 
was  more  to  be  relied  upon  than  his  own  sagacity ;  and  he 
knew  not,  if  he  even  rejected  her  offered  services  alto- 
gether, how  he  could  with  any  grace  communicate  the  re- 
fusal, and  leave  her  abandoned  to  her  own  discretion  in  the 
forests.  He  felt  a  little  inclined,  at  first,  to  wonder  at  the 
interest  she  seemed  to  have  taken  in  his  cousin's  welfare; 
but,  by  and  by,  he  reflected  that  perhaps,  after  all,  her  mo- 
tive lay  in  no  better  or  deeper  feeling  than  a  mere  girlish 


NICK   OF   THE   WOODS.  77 

desire  to  make  her  way  to  the  neighboring  station  (twenty 
miles  make  but  a  neighborly  distance  in  the  wilderness), 
to  enjoy  a  frolic  among  her  gadding  acquaintance. 

This  reflection  ended  the  struggle  in  his  mind ;  and  turn- 
ing to  her,  with  a  smiling  countenance,  he  said,  "If  you 
are  so  sure  of  getting  home,  my  pretty  maid,  you  may  be 
as  certain  we  will  be  glad  of  your  company  and  guidance. 
But  let  us  delay  no  longer/' 

The  girl,  starting  at  these  words  with  alacrity,  switched 
her  pony  and  darted  to  the  head  of  the  little  party,  as  if 
addressing  herself  to  her  duty  in  a  business-like  way ;  and 
there  she  maintained  her  position  with  great  zeal,  although 
Roland  and  Edith  endeavored,  for  kindness'  sake,  to  make 
her  sensible  they  desired  her  to  ride  with  them  as  a  com- 
panion, and  not  at  a  distance  like  a  pioneer.  The  faster 
they  spurred,  however,  the  more  zealously  she  plied  her 
switch,  and  her  pony  being  both  spirited  and  fresh,  while 
their  own  horses  were  both  not  a  little  the  worse  for  their 
long  journey,  she  managed  to  keep  in  front,  maintaining  a 
gait  that  promised  in  a  short  time  to  bring  them  to  the 
banks  of  the  river. 

They  had  ridden  perhaps  a  mile  in  this  manner  when  a 
sudden  opening  in  the  cane-brake  on  the  right  hand,  at  a 
place  where  stood  a  beech-tree  riven  by  a  thunderbolt  in 
former  years,  but  still  spreading  its  shattered  ruins  in  the 
air,  convinced  Eoland  that  he  had  at  last  reached  the  road 
to  the  Lower  Ford,  which  Bruce  had  so  strictly  cautioned 
him  to  avoid.  What,  therefore,  was  his  surprise  when 
Telie,  having  reached  the  tree,  turned  at  once  into  the  by- 
road, leaving  the  direct  path  which  they  had  so  long  pur- 
sued, and  which  still  swept  away  before  them,  as  spacious 
and  uninterrupted,  save  by  occasional  pools,  as  ever. 

"You  are  wrong,"  he  cried,  checking  his  steed. 

"This  is  the  road,  sir/'  said  the  girl,  though  in  some 
trepidation. 

"By  no  means,"  said  Forrester;  "that  path  leads  to  the 
Lower  Ford;  here  is  the  shivered  beech  which  the  colonel 
described  to  me." 


78  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"Yes,  sir/'  said  Telie,  hurriedly;  "it  is  the  mark;  they 
call  it  the  Crooked  Finger-post." 

"And  a  crooked  road  it  is  like  to  lead  us  if  we  follow  it," 
said  Roland.  "It  leads  to  the  Lower  Ford,  and  is  not 
therefore  our  road.  I  remember  the  colonel's  direction." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Telie,  anxiously,  "to  take  the  beech  on 
the  right  shoulder  and  then  down  four  miles  to  the 
water." 

"Precisely  so,"  said  the  soldier ;  "with  only  this  dif- 
ference (for,  go  which  way  we  will,  the  tree  being  on  the 
right  side  of  each  path,  we  must  still  keep  it  on  the  right 
shoulder),  that  the  road  to  the  Upper  Ford,  which  I  am 
now  travelling,  is  the  one  for  our  purposes.  Of  this  I  am 
confident." 

"And  yet,  Roland,"  said  Edith,  somewhat  alarmed  at 
this  difference  of  opinion,  where  unanimity  was  so  much 
more  desirable,  "the  young  woman  should  know  best." 

"Yes!"  cried  Telie,  eagerly,  "I  have  lived  here  almost 
seven  years,  and  been  across  the  river  more  than  as  many 
times.  This  is  the  shortest  and  safest  way." 

"It  may  be  both  the  shortest  and  safest,"  said  Forrester, 
whose  respect  for  the  girl's  knowledge  of  the  woods,  and 
ability  to  guide  him  through  them,  began  to  be  vastly  di- 
minished; "but  this  is  the  road  Mr.  Bruce  described.  Of 
this  I  am  positive ;  and  to  make  the  matter  still  more  cer- 
tain, if  need  be,  here  are  horse-tracks,  fresh,  numerous, 
scarcely  washed  by  the  rain,  and  undoubtedly  made  by  our 
old  companions ;  whereas  that  path  seems  not  to  have  been 
trodden  for  a  twelvemonth." 

"I  will  guide  you  right,"  faltered  Telie,  with  anxious 
voice. 

"My  good  girl,"  said  the  soldier,  kindly,  but  positively, 
"you  must  allow  me  to  doubt  your  ability  to  do  that, — at 
least,  on  that  path.  Here  is  our  road,  and  we  must  fol- 
low it." 

He  resumed  it  as  he  spoke,  and  Edith,  conquered  by  his 
arguments,  which  seemed  decisive,  followed  him ;  but  look- 
ing back,  after  having  proceeded  a  few  steps,  she  saw  the 


NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

baffled  guide  still  lingering  on  the  rejected  path,  and 
wringing  her  hands  with  grief  and  disappointment. 

"You  will  not  remain  behind  us?"  said  Edith,  riding 
back  to  her;  "you  see,  my  cousin  is  positive;  you  must 
surely  be  mistaken." 

"I  am  not  mistaken/'  said  the  girl  earnestly;  "and,  oh, 
he  will  repent  that  ever  he  took  his  own  way  through  this 
forest  !" 

"How  can  that  be  ?  what  cause  have  you  to  say  so  ?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  murmured  the  damsel  in  woful  per- 
plexity; "but — but,  sometimes  that  road  is  dangerous." 

"Sometimes  all  roads  are  so/'  said  Edith,  her  patience 
failing  when  she  found  Telie  could  give  no  better  reason 
for  her  opposition.  "Let  us  continue ;  my  kinsman  is  wait- 
ing us,  and  we  must  lose  no  more  time  by  delay." 

With  these  words  she  again  trotted  forward,  and  Telie, 
after  hesitating  a  moment,  thought  fit  to  follow. 

But  now  the  animation  that  had,  a  few  moments  before, 
beamed  forth  in  every  look  and  gesture  of  the  maiden,  gave 
place  to  dejection  of  spirits,  and  even,  as  Edith  thought,  to 
alarm.  She  seemed  as  anxious  now  to  linger  in  the  rear 
as  she  had  been  before  to  preserve  a  bold  position  in  front. 
Her  eyes  wandered  timorously  from  brake  to  tree,  as  if  in 
fear  lest  each  should  conceal  a  lurking  enemy;  and  often, 
as  Edith  looked  back,  she  was  struck  with  the  singularly 
mournful  and  distressed  expression  of  her  countenance. 


80  NICK   OF   THE    WOODS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Strange  and  several  noises 
Of  roaring,  shrieking,  howling, 
And   more    diversity    of    sounds,    all    horrible! 

— Tempest. 

0  look,  sir,  look,  sir; 
I  prophesied,  if  a  gallows  were  on  land, 
This  fellow  could  not  drown. 

— Tempest. 

THESE  symptoms  of  anxiety  and  alarm  affected  Edith'3 
own  spirit;  they  did  more,  they  shook  her  faith  in  the  jus- 
tice of  her  kinsman's  conclusions.  His  arguments  in  re- 
lation to  the  road  were  indeed  unanswerable,  and  Telie 
had  offered  none  to  weaken  them.  Yet  why  should  she 
betray  such  distress  if  they  were  upon  the  right  one?  and 
why,  in  fact,  should  she  not  be  supposed  to  know  both  the 
right  and  the  wrong,  since  she  had,  as  she  said,  so  fre- 
quently travelled  both? 

These  questions  Edith  could  not  refrain  from  asking  of 
Eoland,  who  professed  himself  unable  to  answer  them, 
unless  by  supposing  the  girl  had  become  confused,  as  he 
thought  was  not  improbable,  or  had,  in  reality,  been  so 
long  absent  from  the  forest  as  to  have  forgotten  its  paths 
altogether;  which  was  likely  enough,  as  she  seemed  a  very 
simple-minded,  inexperienced  creature. 

"But  why  need  we,"  he  said,  "trouble  ourselves  to  find 
reasons  for  the  poor  girl's  opposition?  Here  are  the 
tracks  of  our  friends,  broader  and  deeper  than  ever;  here 
they  wind  down  into  the  hollow,  and  there  you  may  see 
where  they  have  floundered  through  that  vile  pool,  that  is 
still  turbid,  where  they  crossed  it.  A  horrible  quagmire! 
But  courage,  my  fair  cousin;  it  is  only  such  difficulties  as 
these  that  the  road  can  lead  us  into." 

Such  were  the  expressions  with  which  the  young  soldier 
endeavored  to  reassure  his  kinswoman's  courage,  his  own 
confidence  remaining  still  unmoved;  although  in  secret  he 
felt  somewhat  surprised  at  the  coincidence  between  the 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  81 

girl's  recommendations  of  the  by-road  and  the  injunctions 
of  his  morning  dream.  But  while  pondering  over  the  won- 
der, he  had  arrived  at  the  quagmire  alluded  to,  through 
which  the  difficulties  of  conducting  his  cousin  were  suffi- 
ciently great  to  banish  other  matters  for  a  moment  from 
his  mind. 

Having  crossed  it  at  last  in  safety,  he  paused  to  give 
such  instructions  or  assistance  as  might  be  needed  by  his 
two  followers,  when  Edith,  who  had  halted  at  his  side,  sud- 
denly laid  her  hand  on  his  arm,  and  exclaimed,  with  a 
visage  of  terror — "Hark,  Eoland !  do  you  hear !  What  is 
that?" 

"Heard  him,  massa !"  ejaculated  Emperor  from  the  mid- 
dle of  the  bog,  with  voice  still  more  quavering  than  the 
maiden's,  and  lips  rapidly  changing  from  Spanish  brown 
to  clayey  yellow ;  "heard  him,  massa !  Reckon  it's  an  In- 
jun !  lor-ra-massy !" 

"Peace,  fool,"  cried  Forrester,  bending  his  look  from 
the  alarmed  countenance  of  his  kinswoman  to  the  quarter 
whence  had  proceeded  the  sound  which  had  so  suddenly 
struck  terror  into  her  bosom. 

"Hark,  Eoland!  it  rises  again!"  she  exclaimed;  and 
Eoland  now  distinctly  heard  a  sound  in  the  depth  of  the 
forest  to  the  right  hand,  as  of  the  yell  of  a  human  being, 
but  at  a  great  distance  off.  At  the  place  which  they  had 
reached,  the  canes  and  undergrowth  of  other  kinds  had  dis- 
appeared, and  a  wide  glade,  stretching  over  hill  and  hollow, 
swept  away  from  both  sides  of  the  road  further  than  the 
eye  could  see.  The  trees,  standing  wider  apart  than  usual, 
were,  if  possible,  of  a  more  majestic  stature;  their  wide, 
massive  tops  were  so  thickly  interlaced,  that  not  a 
single  sunbeam  found  its  way  among  the  gloomy  arcades 
below.  A  wilder,  more  solitary,  and  more  awe-inspiring 
spot,  Roland  had  not  before  seen;  and  it  was  peculiarly 
fitted  to  add  double  effect  to  sights  and  sounds  of  a  melan- 
choly or  fearful  character.  Accordingly,  when  the  cry 
was  repeated,  as  it  soon  was,  though  at  the  same  distance  as 
before,  it  came  echoing  among  the  hollow  arches  of  the 


82  NICE:   OF   THE   WOODS. 

woods  with  a  wild  and  almost  unearthly  cadence,  the  utter- 
ance, as  it  seer«ed,  of  mortal  agony  and  despair,  that 
breathed  a  secret  horror  through  the  breasts  of  all. 

"It  is  the  Jibbenainosay !"  muttered  the  shivering  Telie ; 
"these  are  the  woods  he  used  to  range  in  most;  and  they 
say  he  screams  af tey  his  prey !  It  is  not  too  late : — let  us, 
go  back!" 

"An  Injun,  massa,"  raid  Emperor,  stuttering  with  fright, 
and  yet  proceeding  berth  to  handle  his  arms,  and  to  give 
encouragement  to  his  young  mistress;  which  his  age  and 
privileged  character,  as  well  as  the  urgency  of  the  occasion, 
entitled  him  to  do;  "don't  be  afraid,  missie  Edie;  nebber 
mind; — old  Emperor  will  fight  and  die  for  missie,  old 
massa  John's  daughter !" 

"Hist  !"  said  Roland,  as  another  scream  rose  on  the  air, 
louder  and  more  thrilling  than  before. 

"It  is  the  cry  of  a  human  being!"  said  Edith, — "of  a 
man  in  distress !" 

'It  is  indeed,"  replied  the  soldier, — "of  a  man  in  great 
peril,  or  suffering.  Remain  here  on  the  road;  and  if  any 
thing — nay,  if  you  will  follow  me,  it  may  be  better ;  but  let 
it  be  at  a  distance.  If  any  thing  happens  to  me,  set  spurs 
to  your  horses ; — Telie  here  can  at  least  lead  you  back  to  the 
fort." 

With  these  words,  and  without  waiting  to  hear  the  re- 
monstrances or  remove  the  terrors  of  his  companions,  the 
young  man  turned  his  horse  into  the  wood,  and,  guided 
by  the  cries,  which  were  almost  incessant,  soon  found  him- 
self in  the  vicinity  of  the  place  from  which  they  pro- 
ceeded. It  was  a  thick  grove  of  beeches  of  colossal  growth 
of  the  west,  their  stems  as  tall  and  as  straight  as  the  pines 
of  the  Alleghanies,  and  their  boughs  arched  and  pendulous 
like  those  of  the  elm,  almost  sweeping  the  earth  below,  over 
which  they  cast  shadows  so  dark  that  scarcely  any  thing 
was  visible  beneath  them,  save  their  hoary  and  spectral 
trunks. 

As  Roland,  followed  by  his  little  party,  approached  this 
spot,  the  cries  of  the  unknown,  and  as  yet  unseen  sufferer, 


NICK    OF    THE    "WOODS. 

iearful  even  at  a  distance,  grew  into  the  wildest  shrieks  of 
fear,  mingled  with  groans,  howls,  broken  prayers,  and  exe- 
crations, and  half  inarticulate  expressions,  now  of  fondling 
entreaty,  now  of  fierce  and  frantic  command,  that  seemed 
addressed  to  a  second  person  hard  by. 

A  thousand  strange  and  appalling  conceits  had  crept  into 
Eoland's  mind,  when  he  first  heard  the  cries.  One  while 
he  almost  fancied  he  had  stumbled  on  a  gang  of  savages, 
who  were  torturing  a  prisoner  to  death;  another  moment, 
he  thought  the  yells  must  proceed  from  some  unlucky  hun- 
ter, perishing  by  inches  in  the  grasp  of  a  wild  beast,  per- 
haps a  bear  or  panther,  with  which  animals  it  was  easy  to 
believe  the  forest  might  abound. 

With  such  horrible  fancies  oppressing  his  mind,  his  sur- 
prise may  be  imagined,  when,  having  cocked  a  rifle  and 
thrown  open  his  holsters,  to  be  prepared  for  the  worst,  he 
rushed  into  the  grove,  and  beheld  a  spectacle  no  more 
formidable  than  was  presented  by  a  single  individual, — a 
man  in  a  shaggy  blanket-coat,  sitting  on  horseback  under 
one  of  the  most  venerable  of  the  beeches,  and  uttering  those 
diabolical  outcries  that  had  alarmed  the  party,  for  no 
imaginable  purpose,  as  Eoland  was  at  first  inclined  to 
suspect,  unless  for  his  own  private  diversion. 

A  second  look,  however,  convinced  the  soldier  that  the 
wretched  being  had  sufficient  cause  for  his  clamor,  being, 
in  truth,  in  a  situation  almost  as  dreadful  as  any  Eoland 
had  imagined.  His  arms  were  pinioned  behind  his  back, 
and  his  neck  secured  in  a  halter  (taken,  as  it  appeared, 
from  his  steed),  by  which  he  was  fastened  to  a  large  bough 
immediately  above  his  head,  with  nothing  betwixt  him  and 
death,  save  the  horse  on  which  he  sat — a  young  and  terri- 
fied beast,  at  whose  slightest  start  or  motion  he  must  have 
swung  off  and  perished,  while  he  possessed  no  means  of 
restraining  the  animal  whatever,  except  such  as  lay  in 
strength  of  leg  and  virtue  of  voice. 

In  this  terrible  situation  it  was  plain  he  had  remained 
for  a  considerable  period,  his  clothes  and  hair  (for  his  hat 
had  fallen  to  the  ground)  being  saturated  with  rain;  while 


84:  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

his  face,  purple  with  blood,  his  e}res  swollen  and  protruding 
from  their  orbits  with  a  most  ghastly  look  of  agony  and 
fear,  showed  how  often  the  uneasiness  of  his  horse,  round 
whose  body  his  legs  were  wrapped  with  the  convulsive  en- 
ergy of  despair,  had  brought  him  to  the  very  verge  of 
strangulation. 

The  yells  of  mortal  terror,  for  such  they  had  been,  with 
which  he  had  so  long  filled  the  forest,  were  changed  to 
shrieks  of  rapture,  as  soon  as  he  beheld  help  approach  in 
the  person  of  the  astonished  soldier. 

"Praised  be  the  Etarnal !"  he  roared,  "cut  me  loose, 
strannger! — Praised  be  the  Etarnal,  and  this  here  dumb 
beast ! — Cut  me  loose,  strannger,  for  the  love  of  God  !" 

Such  was  Roland's  intention ;  for  which  purpose  he  had 
already  clapped  his  hand  to  his  sabre,  to  employ  it  in  a 
service  more  humane  than  any  it  had  previously  known; 
when,  unfortunately,  the  voice  of  the  fellow  did  what  his 
distorted  countenance  had  failed  to  do,  and  revealed  to 
Roland's  indignant  eyes,  the  author  of  all  his  present  diffi- 
culties, the  thief  of  the  pinfold,  the  robber  of  Brown  Briar- 
eus, — in  a  word,  the  redoubtable  Captain  Ealph  Stack- 
pole. 

In  a  moment  Roland  understood  the  mystery  which  he 
had  been  before  too  excited  to  inquire  into.  He  remem- 
bered the  hints  of  Bruce,  and  he  had  learned  enough  of 
border  customs  and  principles  to  perceive  that  the  justice 
of  the  woods  had  at  last  overtaken  the  horse-thief.  The 
pursuing  party  captured  him — taken  him  in  the  very  man- 
ner,  while  still  in  possession  of  the  "two-year-old  pony/' 
and  at  once  adjudged  him  to  the  penalty  prescribed  by  the 
border  code — tied  his  arms,  noosed  him  with  the  halter  of 
the  stolen  horse,  and  left  him  to  swing,  as  soon  as  the  ani- 
mal should  be  tired  of  supporting  him. 

There  was  a  kind  of  dreadful  poetical  justice  in  thus 
making  the  stolen  horse  the  thief's  executioner :  it  gave  the 
animal  himself  an  opportunity  to  wreak  vengeance  for  all 
wrongs  received,  and  at  the  same  time  allowed  his  captor 
the  rare  privilege  of  galloping  on  his  back  into  eternity. 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  35 

Such  was  the  mode  of  settling  such  offences  against  the 
peace  and  dignity  of  the  settlements ;  such  was  the  way  in 
which  Stackpole  had  been  reduced  to  his  unenviable  situa- 
tion ;  and  that  all  passers-by  might  take  note  that  the  exe- 
cution had  not  been  done  without  authority,  there  was 
painted  upon  the  smooth  white  bark  of  the  tree,  in  large 
black  letters,  traced  by  a  finger  well  charged  with  moistened 
gunpowder,  the  ominous  name — JUDGE  LYNCH,  the  Rhada- 
manthus  of  the  forest,  whose  decisions  are  yet  respected  in 
the  land,  and  whose  authority  sometimes  bids  fair  to  super- 
sede that  of  all  erring  human  tribunals. 

Thus  tied  up,  his  rifle,  knife,  and  ammunition  laid  under 
a  tree  hard  by,  that  he  might  have  the  satisfaction,  if  satis- 
faction it  could  be,  of  knowing  they  were  in  safety,  the 
executioners  had  left  him  to  his  fate,  and  ridden  away  long 
since,  to  attend  to  other  important  affairs  of  the  colony. 

The  moment  that  Eoland  understood  in  whose  service  he 
was  drawing  his  sword,  a  change  came  over  the  spirit  of 
his  thoughts  and  feelings,  and  he  returned  it  very  com- 
posedly to  his  sheath — much  to  the  satisfaction  of  the 
negro,  Emperor,  who,  recognizing  the  unfortunate  Ralph 
at  the  same  instant,  cried  aloud,  "  'Top,  massa !  't  ar  Cap- 
tain Stackpole,  what  stole  Brown  Briery!  Reckon  I'll 
touch  the  pony  on  the  rib,  hah?  Hanging  too  good  for 
him,  white  niggah  t'ief,  hah !" 

With  that  the  incensed  negro  made  as  if  he  would  have 
driven  the  pony  from  under  the  luckless  Ralph,  but  was 
prevented  by  his  master,  who,  taking  a  second  survey  of 
the  spectacle,  motioned  to  the  horror-struck  females  to  re- 
tire, and  prepared  himself  to  follow  them. 

"'Tarnal  death  to  you,  captain!  you  won't  leave  me?" 
cried  Ralph,  in  terror.  "Honor  bright!  Help  him  that 
need's  help — that's  the  rule  for  a  Christian !" 

"Villain !"  said  Roland,  sternly,  "I  have  no  help  to  give 
you.  You  are  strung  up  according  to  the  laws  of  the  settle- 
ment with  which  I  have  no  desire  to  interfere.  I  am  the 
last  man  you  should  ask  for  pity." 

"I  don't  ax  your  pity,  'tarnal  death  to  me — I  ax  your 


86  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

help  r  roared  Ealph.  "Cut  me  loose  is  the  word,  and  then 
swar  at  me  atter !  I  stole  your  hoss  thar : — well,  whar^ 
the  harm  ?  Didn't  he  fling  me,  and  kick  me,  and  bite  me 
into  the  bargain,  the  cursed  savage  ?  and  arn't  you  got  him 
ag'n  as  good  as  ever?  And  besides,  didn't  that  etarnal 
old  Bruce  fob  me  off  with  a  beast  good  for  nothing,  and 
talk  big  to  me  besides?  and  warn't  that  all  fa'r  provoca- 
tion? And  didn't  you  yourself  sw'ar  ag'n  shaking  paws 
with  me,  and  treat  me  as  if  I  war  no  gentleman  ?  'Tarnal 
death  to  me,  cut  me  loose,  or  I'll  haunt  you  when  I'm  a 
ghost,  I  will,  'tarnal  death  to  me !" 

"Cut  him  down,  Eoland,  for  heaven's  sake !"  said  Edith, 
whom  the  surprise  and  terror  of  the  spectacle  at  first  ren- 
dered speechless;  "you  surely — no,  Eoland,  you  surely 
can't  mean  to  leave  him  to  perish?" 

"Upon  my  soul,"  said  the  soldier, — and  we  are  sorry  to 
record  a  speech  representing  him  in  a  light  so  unamiable, — 
"I  don't  see  what  right  I  have  to  release  him ;  and  I  really 
have  not  the  least  inclination  to  do  so.  The  rascal  is  the 
cause  of  all  our  difficulties;  and,  if  evil  should  happen  to 
us,  he  will  be  the  cause  of  that  too.  But  for  him,  we 
should  be  now  safe  with  our  party.  And  besides,  as  I  said 
before,  he  is  hanged  according  to  Kentuckian  law;  a  very 
good  law  as  far  as  it  regards  horse-thieves,  for  whom  hang- 
ing is  too  light  a  punishment." 

"Nevertheless,  release  him, — save  the  poor  wretch's  life," 
reiterated  Edith,  to  whom  Stackpole,  perceiving  in  her  his 
only  friend,  now  addressed  the  most  piteous  cries  and  sup- 
plications. "The  law  is  murderous,  its  makers  and  execu- 
tioners barbarians.  Save  him,  Roland,  I  charge  you,  I 
entreat  you !" 

"He  owes  his  life  to  your  intercession,"  said  the  soldier ; 
and  drawing  his  sabre  again,  but  with  no  apparent  good- 
will, he  divided  the  halter  by  which  Ealph  was  suspended, 
and  the  wretch  was  free. 

"Cut  the  tug,  the  buffalo-tug!"  shouted  the  culprit, 
thrusting  his  arms  as  far  from  his  back  as  he  could,  and 
displaying  the  thong  of  bison-skin,  which  his  struggles  had 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  8? 

almost  buried  in  his  flesh.  A  single  touch  of  the  steel, 
rewarded  by  such  a  yell  of  transport  as  was  never  before 
heard  in  those  savage  retreats,  sufficed  to  sever  the  bond; 
and  Stackpole,  leaping  on  the  earth,  began  to  testify  his 
joy  in  modes  as  novel  as  they  were  frantic. 

His  first  act  was  to  fling  his  arms  round  the  neck  of  his 
steed,  which  he  hugged  and  kissed  with  the  most  rapturous 
affection,  doubtless  in  requital  of  the  docility  it  had  shown 
when  docility  was  so  necessary  to  its  rider's  life;  his  sec- 
ond, to  leap  half  a  dozen  times  into  the  air,  feeling  his 
neck  all  the  time,  and  uttering  the  most  singular  and 
vociferous  cries,  as  if  to  make  double  trial  of  the  condition 
of  his  windpipe ;  his  third,  to  bawl  aloud,  directing  the  im- 
portant question  to  the  soldier:  "How  many  days  has  it 
been  since  they  hanged  me?  War  it  to-day,  or  yesterday, 
or  the  day  before ;  or  war  it  a  whole  year  ago  ?  for  may  I 
be  next  hung  to  the  horn  of  a  buffalo,  instead  of  the  limb 
of  a  beech-tree,  if  I  didn't  feel  as  if  I  had  been  squeaking 
thar  ever  since  the  beginning  of  creation !  Cock-a-doodle- 
doo  !  him  that  arn't  born  to  be  hanged  won't  be  hanged,  no- 
how!" 

Then  running  to  Edith,  who  sat  watching  his  proceed- 
ings with  silent  amazement,  he  flung  himself  on  his  knees, 
seized  the  hem  of  her  riding-habit,  which  he  kissed  with 
the  fervor  of  an  adorer,  exclaiming,  with  a  vehement  sin- 
cerity that  made  the  whole  action  still  more  strangely  ludi- 
crous, "Oh !  you  splendiferous  creatur' !  you  anngeliferous 
anngel!  here  am  I,  Kalph  Stackpole  the  Screamer,  that 
can  whip  all  Kentucky,  white,  black,  mixed,  and  Injun; 
and  I'm  the  man  to  go  with  you  to  the  ends  of  the  'arth,  to 
fight,  die,  work,  beg,  and  steal  bosses  for  you;  I  am,  and 
you  may  make  a  little  dog  of  me ;  you  may,  or  a  niggur,  or 
a  hoss,  or  a  door-post,  or  a  back-log,  or  a  dinner, — 'tarnal 
death  to  me  but  you  may  eat  me !  I'm  the  man  to  feel  a 
favor,  partickelarly  when  it  comes  to  helping  me  out  of  a 
halter;  and  so  jist  say  the  word  who  I  shall  lick,  to  begin 
on;  for  I'm  your  slave  jist  as  much  as  that  niggur,  to  go 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

with  you,   as  I  said  afore,  to  the  ends  of  the  'arth,  and  the 
length  of  Kentucky  over !" 

"Away  with  you,  you  scoundrel  and  jackanapes,"  said 
Eoland,  for  to  this  ardent  expression  of  gratitude  Edith 
was  herself  too  much  frightened  to  reply. 

"Strannger!"  cried  the  offended  horse-thief,  "you  cut 
the  tug,  and  you  cut  the  halter ;  and  so,  though  you  did  it 
only  on  hard  axing,  I'd  take  as  many  hard  words  of  you  as  • 
you  can  pick  of  a  dictionary, — I  will,  'tarnal  death  to  me. 
But  as  for  madam  thar,  the  anngel,  she  saved  my  life,  and 
I  go  my  death  in  her  sarvice ;  and  now's  the  time  to  show 
sarvice,  for  thar's  danger  abroad  in  the  forest." 

"Danger!"  echoed  Roland,  his  anxiety  banishing  the 
disgust  with  which  he  was  so  much  inclined  to  regard  the 
worthy  horse-thief;  "what  makes  you  say  that?" 

"Strannger,"  replied  Ralph,  with  a  lengthened  visage, 
and  a  gravity  somewhat  surprising  for  him;  "I  seed  the 
Jibbenainosay !  'tarnal  death  to  me,  but  I  seed  him  as  plain 
as  ever  I  seed  old  Salt;  I  war  a-hanging  thar,  and  squeak- 
ing and  cussing,  and  talking  soft  nonsense  to  the  pony,  to 
keep  him  out  of  tantrums,  when  what  should  I  see  but 
a  great  crittur  come  tramping  through  the  forest,  right 
off  yander  by  the  fallen  oak,  with  a  big  b'ar  before 
him " 

"Pish,"  said  the  soldier;  "what  has  this  to  do  with  dan- 
ger?" 

"Beca'se  and  beca'se,"  said  Ralph,  "when  you  see  the 
Jibbenainosay,  thar's  always  abbregynes*  in  the  cover.  I 
never  seed  the  crittur  before,  but  I  reckon  it  war  he,  for 
thar's  nothing  like  him  in  natur'.  And  so  I'm  for  cutting 
out  of  the  forest  jist  on  the  track  of  a  streak  of  lightning — 
now  h'yar,  now  thar,  but  on  a  full  run  without  stopping. 
And  so,  if  anngeliferous  madam  is  willing,  thump  me 
round  the  'arth  with  a  crab-apple,  if  I  don't  holp  her  out  of 
the  bushes,  and  do  all  her  fighting  into  the  bargain, — I 
will,  'tarnal  death  to  me !" 

* Albregynes — Aborigines. 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"You  may  go  about  your  business,"  said  Roland,  with 
as  much  sternness  as  contempt.  "We  will  have  none  of 
your  base  company." 

"Whoop !  whoo,  whoo,  whoo !  don't  rifle*  me,  for  I'm 
danngerous !"  yelled  the  demi-barbarian,  springing  on  his 
stolen  horse, and  riding  up  to  Edith:  "Say  the  word,marm," 
he  cried ;  "for  I'll  fight  for  you,  or  run  for  you,  take  scalp 
or  cut  stick,  shake  fist  or  show  leg,  any  thing  in  reason  or 
out  of  reason.  Strannger  thar's  as  brashf  as  a  new  hound 
in  a  b'ar  fight,  or  a  young  hoss  in  a  corn-field,  and  no  safe 
friend  in  a  forest.  Say  the  word,  marm, — or  if  you  think 
it  arn't  manners  to  speak  to  a  strannger,  jist  shake  your 
little  finger,  and  I'll  follow  like  a  dog,  and  do  you  dog's 
sarvice.  Or  if  you  don't  like  me,  say  the  word,  or  shake 
t'other  finger,  and  'tarnal  death  to  me,  but  I'll  be  off  like 
an  elk  of  the  prairies !" 

"You  may  go,"  said  Edith,  not  at  all  solicitous  to  retain 
a  follower  of  Mr.  Stackpole's  character  and  conversation; 
"we  have  no  occasion  for  your  assistance." 

"Fawwell!"  said  Ealph;  and  turning,  and  giving  his 
pony  a  thump  with  his  fist,  and  a  kick  with  each  heel,  and 
uttering  a  shrill  whoop,  he  darted  away  through  the  forest, 
and  was  soon  out  of  sight. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Something  doth  approach! 
What  cursed  foot  wanders  this  way  to-night? 

— Romeo  and  Juliet. 

THE  course  of  Stackpole  was  through  the  woods,  in  a 
direction  immediately  opposite  to  that  which  Roland  had 
ridden  to  his  assistance. 

"He  is  going  to  the  Lower  Ford,"  said  Telie,  anxiously. 


To  rifte — to  ruffle. 
t  Brash — rash,  headstrong,  over- valiant. 


90  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"It  is  not  too  late  for  us  to  follow  him.  If  there  are  In- 
dians in  the  wood,  it  is  the  only  way  to  escape  them !" 

"And  why  should  we  believe  there  are  Indians  in  the 
wood?"  demanded  Roland,  "because  that  half-mad  rogue, 
made  still  madder  by  his  terrors,  saw  something  which  his 
fancy  converted  into  the  imaginary  Nick  of  the  Woods? 
You  must  give  me  a  better  reason  than  that,  my  good  Telie, 
if  you  would  have  me  desert  the  road.  I  have  no  faith  in 
your  Jibbenainosays." 

But  a  better  reason  than  her  disinclination  to  travel  it, 
and  her  fears  lest,  if  Indians  were  abroad,  they  would  be 
found  lying  in  ambush  at  the  upper  and  more  frequented 
pass  of  the  river,  the  girl  had  none  to  give ;  and,  in  conse- 
quence, Roland  (though  secretly  wondering  at  her  pertinac- 
ity, and  still  connecting  it  in  thought  with  his  oft-remem- 
bered dream),  expressing  some  impatience  at  the  delay  they 
had  already  experienced,  led  the  way  back  to  the  buffalo- 
road,  resolved  to  prosecute  it  with  vigor.  But  fate  had  pre- 
pared for  him  other  and  more  serious  obstructions. 

He  had  scarcely  regained  the  path  before  he  became  sen- 
sible, from  the  tracks  freshly  printed  in  the  damp  earth, 
that  a  horseman,  coming  from  the  very  river  towards  which 
he  was  bending  his  way,  had  passed  by  whilst  he  was  en- 
gaged in  the  wood  liberating  the  horse-thief.  This  was 
a  circumstance  that  both  pleased  and  annoyed  him.  It 
was  so  far  agreeable,  as  it  seemed  to  offer  the  best  proof 
that  the  road  was  open,  with  none  of  those  dreadful  savages 
about  it  who  had  so  long  haunted  the  brain  of  Telie  Doe. 

But  what  chiefly  concerned  the  young  soldier  was  the 
knowledge  that  he  had  lost  an  opportunity  of  inquiring 
after  his  friends,  and  ascertaining  whether  they  had  really 
pitched  their  camp  on  the  banks  of  the  river;  a  circum« 
stance  which  he  now  rather  hoped  than  dared  to  be  cer- 
tain of,  the  tempest  not  seeming  to  have  been  so  violent  in 
that  quarter,  as,  of  necessity,  to  bring  the  company  to  a 
halt.  If  they  had  not  encamped  in  the  expected  place,  but 
on  the  contrary,  had  continued  their  course  to  the  ap- 
pointed station,  he  saw  nothing  before  him  but  the  gloomy 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

prospect  of  concluding  his  journey  over  an  unknown  road, 
after  nightfall,  or  returning  to  the  station  he  had  left,  also 
by  night;  for  much  time  had  been  lost  by  the  various  de- 
lays, and  the  day  was  now  declining  fast. 

These  considerations  threw  a  damp  over  his  spirits,  but 
taught  him  the  necessity  of  activity;  and  he  was  accord- 
ingly urging  his  little  party  forward  with  such  speed  as  he 
could,  when  there  was  suddenly  heard  at  a  distance  on  the 
rear  the  sound  of  fire-arms,  as  if  five  or  six  pieces  were  dis- 
charged together,  followed  by  cries  not  less  wild  and  alarm- 
ing than  those  uttered  by  the  despairing  thief. 

These  bringing  the  party  to  a  stand,  the  quick  ears  of  the 
soldier  detected  the  rattling  of  hoofs  on  the  road  behind, 
and  presently  there  came  rushing  towards  them,  with  furi- 
ous speed,  a  solitary  horseman,  his  head  bare,  his  locks 
streaming  in  the  wind,  and  his  whole  appearance  betray- 
ing the  extremity  of  confusion  and  terror;  which  was  the 
more  remarkable,  as  he  was  well  mounted,  and  armed  with 
the  usual  rifle,  knife,  and  hatchet  of  the  back-woodsman. 
He  looked  as  if  flying  from  pursuing  foes,  his  eyes  being 
cast  backwards,  and  that  so  eagerly,  that  he  failed  to  notice 
the  party  of  wondering  strangers  drawn  up  before  him  on 
the  road,  until  saluted  by  a  halloo  from  Roland ;  at  which 
he  checked  his  steed,  looking  for  an  instant  ten  times  more 
confounded  and  frightened  than  before. 

"You  tarnation  critturs !"  he  at  last  bawled,  with  the  ac- 
cents of  one  driven  to  desperation,  "if  there  aVt  no  dodg- 
ing you,  then  there  a'n't.  Here's  for  you,  you  everlasting 
varmints — due  you  darndest !" 

With  that  he  clubbed  his  rifle,  and  advanced  towards  the 
party  in  what  seemed  a  paroxysm  of  insane  fury,  brandish- 
ing the  weapon,  and  rolling  his  eyes  with  a  ferocity  that 
could  have  only  arisen  from  his  being  in  that  happy  frame 
of  mind  which  is  properly  termed  "frighted  out  of  fear/' 

"How,  you  villain !"  said  Roland  in  amazement,  "do  you 
take  us  for  wild  Indians?" 

"What,  by  the  holy  hokey,  and  a'n't  you?"  cried  the 
stranger,  his  rage  giving  way  to  the  most  lively  transports. 


93  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

"Christian  men !"  he  exclaimed  in  admiration,  "and  one  of 
'em  a  niggur,  and  two  of  'em  wimming !  oh,  hokey !  You're 
Captain  Forrester,  and  I've  heerd  on  you !  Thought  there 
was  nothing  in  the  wood  but  Injuns,  blast  their  ugly  pic- 
turs!  and  blast  him,  Sy  Jones  as  was,  that  brought  me 
among  'em !  And  now  I'm  talking  of  'em,  capting,  don't 
stop  to  ax  questions,  but  run — cut  and  run,  capting,  for 
there's  an  everlasting  sight  of  'em  behind  me ! — six  of  'em, 
capting,  or  my  name  a'n't  Pardon  Dodge — six  of  'em — all 
except  one,  and  him  I  shot,  the  blasted  crittur !  for,  you  see, 
they  followed  me  behind,  and  cut  me  off  before,  and  there 
was  no  dodging  'em — (Dodge's  my  name,  and  dodgings  my 
natur'), — without  gitting  lost  in  the  woods;  and  it  was 
either  losing  myself  or  my  scalp;  and  so  that  riz  my 
Ebenezer,  and  I  banged  the  first  of  'em  all  to  smash — if  I 
didn't,  then  it  a'n't  no  matter  \" 

"What,  in  heaven's  name,"  said  Roland,  overcome  by  the 
man's  volubility  and  alarm  together,  "what  means  all  this  ? 
Are  there  Indians  behind  us  ?" 

"Five  of  'em,  and  the  dead  feller — shocking  long-legged 
crittur  he  was — jumped  out  of  a  bush,  and  seized  me  by 
the  bridle — hokey!  how  he  skeared  me! — Gun  went  off 
of  her  own  accord,  and  shot  him  into  bits  as  small  as  four- 
pence  ha'pennies.  Then  there  was  a  squeaking  and  squall- 
ing, and  the  hull  of  'em  let  fly  at  me;  and  then  I  cut  on 
the  back  track,  and  they  took  and  took  after,  and,  I  cal- 
culate, if  we  wait  here  a  quarter  of  a  minute  longer  they 
will  be  on  us  just  like  devils  and  roaring  lions.  But  where 
shall  we  run  ?  You  can't  git  us  a  hint  how  to  make  way 
through  the  woods?  Shocking  bad  woods  to  be  lost  in! 
Bad  place  here  for  talking,  capting — right  'twixt  two  fires 
— six  Injuns  behind  (and  one  of  'em  dead),  and  an  al- 
mighty passel  before — the  ford's  full  of  'em !" 

"What !"  said  Roland,  "did  you  pass  the  ford  ?  and  is 
not  Colonel  Johnson,  with  his  emigrants,  there?" 

"Not  a  man  on  'em — saw  'em  streaking  through  the  mud, 
half  way  to  Jackson's.  Everlasting  lying  critturs,  them 
told  me  there  was  no  Injuns  on  the  road3  when 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

what  should  I  do  but  see  a  hull  grist  on  'em  dodging  among 
the  bushes  at  the  river,  to  surround  me,  the  tarnation  crit- 
turs.  But  I  kinder  had  the  start  on  'em,  and  I  whipped, 
and  I  cut,  and  I  run,  and  I  dodged.  And  so,  says  I,  'I've 
beat  you,  you  tarnation,  scalping  varmints  !'  when  up  jumps 
that  long-legged  feller,  and  the  five  behind  him;  and, 
blast  'em,  that  riz  my  corruption.  And  I " 

"In  a  word,"  said  Eoland,  impatiently,  and  with  a  stern 
accent,  assumed  perhaps  to  re-assure  his  kinswoman,  whom 
the  alarming  communications  of  the  stranger,  uttered  in  an 
agony  of  terror  and  haste,  filled  with  an  agitation  which 
she  could  not  conceal,  "you  have  seen  Indians,  or  you  say 
you  have.  If  you  tell  the  truth,  there  is  no  time  left  for 
deliberations;  if  a  falsehood " 

"Why  should  we  wait  upon  the  road  to  question  and  won- 
der ?"  said  Telie  Doe,  with  a  boldness  and  firmness  that  at 
another  moment  would  have  excited  surprise ;  "why  should 
we  wait  here,  while  the  Indians  may  be  approaching  ?  The 
forest  is  open,  and  the  Lower  Ford  is  free." 

"If  you  can  yet  lead  us  thither,"  said  Eoland,  eagerly, 
"all  is  not  yet  lost.  We  can  neither  advance  nor  return. 
On,  maiden,  for  the  love  of  heaven !" 

These  hasty  expressions  revealed  to  Edith  the  deep  and 
serious  light  in  which  her  kinsman  regarded  their  present 
situation,  though  at  first  seeking  to  hide  his  anxiety  under 
a  veil  of  composure.  In  fact,  there  was  not  an  individual 
present  on  whom  the  fatal  news  of  the  vicinity  of  the  red- 
man  had  produced  a  more  alarming  impression  than  on  Eo- 
land. Young,  brave,  acquainted  with  war,  and  accustomed 
to  scenes  of  blood  and  peril,  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  he 
entertained  fear  on  his  own  account;  but  the  presence  of 
one  whom  he  loved,  and  whom  he  would  have  rescued  from 
danger  any  moment,  at  the  sacrifice  of  his  own  life  thrice 
over,  was  enough  to  cause,  and  excuse  a  temporary  faint- 
ing of  spirit,  and  a  desire  to  fly  the  scene  of  peril,  of  which, 
under  any  other  circumstances,  he  would  have  been  heartily 
ashamed.  The  suddenness  of  the  terror — for  up  to  the 
present  moment  he  had  dreamed  of  no  difficulty  comprising 


94  NICK   OF   THE    WOODS. 

danger,  or  of  no  danger  implying  the  presence  of  savages 
in  the  forest — had  somewhat  shocked  his  mind  from  its 
propriety,  and  left  him  in  a  manner  unfitted  to  exercise  the 
decision  and  energy  so  necessary  to  the  welfare  of  his  feeble 
and  well-nigh  helpless  followers.  The  vastness  of  his  em- 
barrassment, all  disclosed  at  once — his  friends  and  fellow- 
emigrants  now  far  away ;  the  few  miles  which  he  had  to  the 
last  hoped  separated  him  from  them,,  converted  into 
leagues ;  Indian  enemies  at  hand ;  advance  and  retreat  both 
alike  cut  off;  and  night  approaching  fast,  in  which,  with- 
out a  guide,  any  attempt  to  retreat  through  the  wild  forest 
would  be  as  likely  to  secure  his  destruction  as  deliverance; 
these  were  circumstances  that  crowded  into  his  mind  with 
benumbing  effect,  engrossing  his  faculties,  when  the  most 
active  use  of  them  was  essential  to  the  preservation  of  his 
party. 

It  was  at  this  moment  of  weakness  and  confusion,  while 
uttering  what  was  meant  to  throw  some  little  discredit  over 
the  story  of  Dodge,  to  abate  the  terrors  of  Edith,  that  the 
words  of  Telie  Doe  fell  on  his  ears,  bringing  both  aid  and 
hope  to  his  embarrassed  spirits.  She,  at  least,  was  ac- 
quainted with  the  woods ;  she,  at  least,  could  conduct  him, 
if  not  to  the  fortified  station  he  had  left  (and  bitterly  now 
did  he  regret  having  left  it),  to  the  neglected  ford  of  the 
river,  which  her  former  attempts  to  lead  him  thither,  and 
the  memory  of  his  dream,  caused  him  now  to  regard  as  a 
city  of  refuge  pointed  out  by  destiny  itself. 

"You  shall  have  your  way  at  last,  fair  Telie,"  he  said, 
with  a  laugh,  but  not  of  merriment.  "Fate  speaks  for 
you,  and  whether  I  will  or  not,  we  must  to  the  Lower 
Ford!" 

"You  will  never  repent  it,"  said  the  girl,  the  bright  looks 
which  she  had  worn  for  the  few  moments  she  was  permitted 
to  control  the  motions  of  the  party  returning  to  her  visage, 
and  seeming  to  emanate  from  a  rejoicing  spirit-  -"they  will 
not  think  of  waylaying  us  at  the  Lower  Ford !" 

With  that  she  darted  into  the  wood,  and,  followed  by  the 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  95 

others,  including  the  newcomer,  Dodge,  was  soon  at  a  con- 
siderable distance  from  the  road. 

"Singular,"  said  Eoland  to  Edith,  at  whose  rein  he  now 
rode,  endeavoring  to  remove  her  terrors,  which,  though  she 
uttered  no  words,  were  manifestly  overpowering — "singu- 
lar that  the  girl  should  look  so  glad  and  fearless,  while 
we  are,  I  believe,  all  horribly  frightened.  It  is,  however, 
a  good  omen.  When  one  so  timorous  as  she  casts  aside 
fear  there  is  little  reason  for  others  to  be  frightened." 

"I  hope— I  hope  so,"  murmured  Edith.  "But— but  I 
have  had  my  omens,  Eoland,  and  they  were  evil  ones.  I 
dreamed — You  smile  at  me  !" 

"I  do,"  said  the  soldier,  "and  not  more  at  your  joyless 
tones,  my  fair  cousin,  than  at  the  coincidence  of  our 
thoughts.  I  dreamed  (for  I  also  have  had  my  visions) 
last  night  that  some  one  came  to  me  and  whispered  in  my 
ear  'to  cross  the  river  at  the  Lower  Ford,  the  upper  being 
dangerous.'  Verily,  I  shall  hereafter  treat  my  dreams 
with  respect.  I  suppose — I  hope,  were  it  only  to  prove  we 
have  a  good  angel  in  common,  that  you  dreamed  the  same 
thing?" 

"No — it  was  not  that,"  said  Edith,  with  a  sad  and  anx- 
ious countenance.  "It  was  a  dream  that  has  always  been 
followed  by  evil.  I  dreamed — but  it  will  offend  you,  cou- 
sin?" 

"What!"  said  Eoland,  "a  dream?  You  dreamed,  per- 
haps, that  I  forgot  both  wisdom  and  affection,  when,  for 
the  sake  of  this  worthless  beast,  Briareus,  I  drew  you  into 
difficulty  and  peril  ?" 

"No,  no,"  said  Edith,  earnestly,  and  then  added  in  a  low 
voice,  "I  dreamed  of  Eichard  Braxley !" 

"Curse  him!"  muttered  the  youth,  with  tones  of  bitter 
passion,  "it  is  to  him  we  owe  all  that  now  afflicts  us — 
poverty  and  exile,  our  distresses  and  difficulties,  our  fears 
and  our  dangers.  For  a  wooer,"  he  added,  with  a  smile  of 
equal  bitterness,  "methinks  he  has  fallen  on  but  a  rough 
way  of  proving  his  regard.  But  you  dreamed  of  him. 
Well,  what  was  it?  He  came  to  you  with  the  look  of  a 


96  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

beaten  dog,  fawned  at  your  feet,  and  displaying  that  in- 
fernal will,  'Marry  me/  quoth  he,  'faith  maid,  and  I  will  be 
a  greater  rascal  than  before — I  will  burn  this  will,  and  con- 
sent to  enjoy  Eoland  Forrester's  lands  and  houses  in  right 
of  my  wife,  instead  of  claiming  them  in  trust  for  an  heir 
no  longer  in  the  land  of  the  living.'  Cur! — and  but  for 
you,  Edith,  I  would  have  repaid  his  insolence  as  it  de- 
served. But  you  ever  intercede  for  your  worst  enemies. 
There  is  that  confounded  Stackpole,  now ;  I  vow  to  heaven, 
I  am  sorry  I  cut  the  rascal  down !  But  you  dreamed  of 
Braxley !  What  said  the  villain  ?" 

"He  said/'  replied  Edith,  who  had  listened  mournfully, 
but  in  silence,  to  the  young  man's  hasty  expressions,  like 
one  who  was  too  well  acquainted  with  the  impetuosity  of 
his  temper,  to  think  of  opposing  him  in  his  angry  mo- 
ments, or  perhaps  because  her  spirits  were  too  much  sub- 
dued by  her  fears  to  allow  her  to  play  the  monitress, — "he 
said,  and  frowningly  too,  that,  'soft  words  were  with  him 
the  prelude  to  hard  resolutions,  and  that  where  he  could 
not  win  as  the  turtle,  he  could  take  his  prey  like  a  vulture/ 
or  some  such  words  of  anger.  Now,  Roland,  I  have  twice 
before  dreamed  of  this  man,  and  on  each  occasion  a  heavy 
calamity  ensued,  and  that  on  the  following  day.  I  dreamed 
of  him  the  night  before  our  uncle  died.  I  dreamed  a  sec- 
ond time,  and  the  next  day  he  produced  and  recorded  the 
will  that  robbed  us  of  our  inheritance.  I  dreamed  of  him 
again  last  night,  and  what  evil  is  now  hovering  over  us  I 
know  not,  but  it  is  foolish  of  me  to  say  so,  yet  my  fears 
tell  me  it  will  be  something  dreadful." 

"Your  fears,  I  hope,  will  deceive  you,"  said  Roland,  smil- 
ing in  spite  of  himself  at  this  little  display  of  weakness  on 
the  part  of  Edith.  "I  have  much  confidence  in  this  girl, 
Telie,  though  I  can  scarce  tell  why.  A  free  road  and  a 
round  gallop  will  carry  us  to  our  journey's  end  by  nightfall, 
and,  at  the  worst,  we  shall  have  bright  starlight  to  light  us 
on.  Be  comforted,  my  cousin;  I  begin  heartily  to  suspect 
yon  cowardly  Dodge,  or  Dodger,  or  whatever  he  calls  him- 
self, has  been  imposed  upon  by  his  fears,  and  that  he  has 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  9? 

actually  seen  no  Indians  at  all.  The  springing  up  of  a 
bush  from  under  his  horse's  feet,  and  the  starting  away  of 
a  dozen  frightened  rabbits,  might  easily  explain  his  conceit 
of  the  long-legged  Indian  and  his  five  murderous  accom- 
plices ;  and  as  for  the  savages  seen  in  ambush  at  the  ford, 
the  shaking  of  the  cane-brake  by  the  breeze,  or  by  some 
skulking  bear,  would  as  readily  account  for  them.  The 
idea  of  his  being  allowed  to  pass  a  crew  of  Indians  in  their 
lair,  without  being  pursued  or  even  fired  on,  is  quite  pre- 
posterous." 

These  ideas,  perhaps  devised  to  dispel  his  kinswoman's 
fears,  were  scarce  uttered  before  they  appeared  highly  rea- 
sonable to  the  inventor  himself;  and  he  straightway  rode 
to  Dodge's  side,  and  began  to  question  him  more  closely 
than  he  had  before  had  leisure  to  do,  in  relation  to  those 
wondrous  adventures,  the  recounting  of  which  had  pro- 
duced so  serious  a  change  in  the  destination  of  the  party. 

All  his  efforts,  however,  to  obtain  satisfactory  confirma- 
tion of  his  suspicion  were  unavailing.  The  man,  now  in 
a  great  measure  relieved  from  his  terrors,  repeated  his  story 
with  a  thousand  details,  which  convinced  Roland  that  it 
was  in  its  chief  features  correct.  That  he  had  actually 
been  attacked  or  fired  upon  by  some  persons  Roland  could 
not  doubt,  having  heard  the  shots  himself.  As  to  the  am- 
bush at  the  ford,  all  he  could  say  was,  that  he  had  actually 
seen  several  Indians,  he  knew  not  the  number,  stealing 
through  the  wood  in  the  direction  opposite  the  river,  as  if 
on  the  outlook  for  some  expected  party,  Captain  Forrester's 
he  supposed,  of  which  he  had  heard  among  the  emigrants ; 
and  that  this  giving  him  the  advantage  of  the  first  dis- 
covery, he  had  darted  ahead  with  all  his  speed,  until  ar- 
rested at  an  unexpected  moment  by  the  six  warriors,  whose 
guns  and  voices  had  been  heard  by  the  party. 

Besides  communicating  all  the  information  which  he  pos- 
sessed on  these  points,  he  proceeded,  without  waiting  to  be 
asked,  to  give  an  account  of  his  own  history,  and  a  very 
lamentable  one  it  was. 

He  was  from  the  Down-East  country,  a  representative  of 


98  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

the  Bay  State,  from  which  he  had  been  seduced  by  the  ar- 
guments of  his  old  friend  Josiah  Jones,  to  go  "a-pedlering" 
with  the  latter  to  the  new  settlements  in  the  West,  where 
the  situation  of  the  colonists,  so  far  removed  from  all  mar- 
kets, promised  uncommon  advantages  to  the  adventurous 
trader.  These  had  been  in  a  measure  realized  on  the  upper 
Ohio,  but  the  prospect  of  superior  gains  in  Kentucky  had 
tempted  the  two  friends  to  extend  their  speculations  fur- 
ther; and  in  an  evil  hour  they  embarked  their  assorted  no- 
tions and  their  own  bodies  in  a  flat-boat  on  the  Ohio,  in 
the  descent  of  which  it  was  their  fortune  to  be  stripped  of 
every  thing,  after  enduring  risks  without  number,  and 
daily  attacks  from  Indians  lying  in  wait  on  the  banks  of 
the  river,  which  misadventures  terminated  in  the  capture 
of  their  boat,  and  the  death  of  Josiah,  the  unlucky  pro- 
jector of  the  expedition,  Pardon  himself  barely  escaping 
with  his  life. 

These  calamities  were  the  more  distasteful  to  the  worthy 
Dodge,  whose  inclinations  were  of  no  warlike  cast,  and 
whose  courage  never  rose  to  the  fighting  point,  as  he  freely 
professed,  until  goaded  into  action  by  sheer  desperation. 
He  had  "got  enough,"  as  he  said,  "of  the  everlasting  In- 
juns, and  of  Kentucky,  where  there  was  such  a  shocking 
deal  of  'em,  that  a  peaceable  trader's  scalp  was  in  no  more 
security  than  a  rambling  scout's ;"  and  cursing  his  bad  luck, 
and  the  memory  of  the  friend  who  had  cajoled  him  into 
rum,  difficulty,  and  constant  danger,  his  sole  desire  was 
now  to  return  to  the  safer  lands  of  the  East,  which  he  ex- 
pected to  effect  most  advantageously  by  advancing  to  some 
of  the  Southeastern  stations,  and  throwing  himself  in  the 
way  of  the  first  band  of  militia,  whose  tour  of  duty  in  the"v 
district  was  completed,  and  who  should  be  about  to  return 
to  their  native  state.  He  had  got  enough  of  the  Ohio,  as 
well  as  of  the  Indians ;  the  wilderness-road  possessed  fewer 
terrors,  and,  therefore,  appeared  to  his  imagination  the 
more  eligible  route  of  escape. 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  99 


CHAPTEK  X. 

Their  way 

Lies  through  the  perplex'd  paths  of  this  drear  wood 
The  nodding  horror   of  whose  shady  brows 
Threats  the  forlorn  and  wandering  passenger; 
And  here  their  tender  age  might  suffer  peril. 

— Comus. 

DODGE'S  story,  which  was  not  without  its  interest  to 
Koland,  though  the  rapidity  of  their  progress  through  the 
woods,  and  the  constant  necessity  of  being  on  the  alert,  kept 
him  a  somewhat  inattentive  listener,  was  brought  to  an 
abrupt  close  by  the  motions  of  Telie  Doe,  who,  having 
guided  the  party  for  several  miles  with  great  confidence, 
began  at  last  to  hesitate,  and  betray  symptoms  of  doubt  and 
embarrassment  that  attracted  the  soldier's  attention. 

There  seemed  some  cause  for  hesitation;  the  glades,  at 
first  broad  and  open,  through  which  they  had  made  their 
way,  were  becoming  smaller,  and  more  frequently  inter- 
rupted by  copses;  the  wood  grew  denser  and  darker;  the 
surface  of  the  ground  became  broken  by  rugged  ascents 
and  swampy  hollows,  the  one  encumbered  by  stones  and 
mouldering  trunks  of  trees,  the  other  converted  by  the 
rains  into  lakes  and  pools,  through  which  it  was  difficult  to 
find  a  path;  whilst  the  constant  turning  and  winding  to 
right  and  left  to  avoid  such  obstacles,  made  it  a  still  greater 
task  to  preserve  the  line  of  direction  which  Telie  had  inti- 
mated was  a  proper  one  to  pursue.  , 

"Was  it  possible,"  he  asked  himself,  "the  girl  could  be* 
at  fault  ?"  The  answer  to  this  question,  when  addressed  to 
Telie  herself,  confirmed  his  fears.  She  was  perplexed,  she 
was  frightened;  she  had  been  long  expecting  to  strike  the 
neglected  road,  with  which  she  professed  to  be  so  well  ac- 
quainted, and  sure  she  was  they  had  ridden  far  enough  to 
find  it.  But  the  hills  and  swamps  had  confused  her;  she 
was  afraid  to  proceed, — she  knew  not  where  she  was. 


100  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

This  announcement  filled  the  young  soldier's  mind  with 
alarm;  for  upon  Telie's  knowledge  of  the  woods  he  had 
placed  his  best  reliance,  conscious  that  his  own  experience 
in  such  matters  was  as  little  to  be  depended  on  as  that  of 
any  of  his  companions.  Yet  it  was  necessary  he  should  now 
assume  the  lead  himself,  and  do  his  best  to  rescue  the 
party  from  ite  difficulties ;  and  this,  after  a  little  reflection, 
he  thought  he  could  scarce  fail  of  effecting. 

The  portion  of  the  forest  through  which  he  was  rambling 
was  a  kind  of  triangle,  marked  by  the  two  roads  on  the 
east,  with  its  base  bounded  by  the  long-looked-for  river; 
and  one  of  these  boundaries  he  must  strike,  proceed  in 
whatever  direction  he  would.  If  he  persevered  in  the 
course  he  had  followed  so  long,  he  must  of  necessity  find 
himself,  sooner  or  later,  in  the  path  which  Telie  had  failed 
to  discover,  and  failed,  as  he  supposed,  in  consequence  of 
wandering  away  to  the  west,  so  as  to  keep  it  constantly  on 
the  right  hand  instead  of  in  front.  To  recover  it,  then, 
all  that  was  necessary  to  be  done  was  to  direct  his  course 
to  the  right,  and  to  proceed  until  the  road  was  found. 

The  reasoning  was  just,  and  the  probability  was  that  a 
few  moments  would  find  the  party  on  the  recovered  path. 
But  a  half-hour  passed  by,  and  the  travellers,  all  anxious 
and  doubting,  and  filled  with  gloom,  were  yet  stumbling 
in  the  forest,  winding  amid  labyrinths  of  bog  and  brake, 
hill  and  hollow,  that  every  moment  became  wilder  and 
more  perplexing. 

To  add  to  their  alarm,  it  was  manifest  that  the  day  was 
fast  approaching  its  close.  The  sun  had  set,  or  was  so  low 
in  the  heavens  that  not  a  single  ray  could  be  seen  trembling 
on  the  tallest  tree ;  and  thus  was  lost  the  only  means  of  de- 
ciding towards  what  quarter  of  the  compass  they  were  di- 
recting their  steps.  The  mosses  on  the  trees  were  appealed 
to  in  vain, — as  they  will  be  by  all  who  expect  to  find  them 
pointing,  like  the  mariner's  needle,  to  the  pole.  They  in- 
dicate the  quarter  from  which  blow  the  prevailing  humid 
winds  of  any  region  of  country;  but  in  the  moist  and 
dense  forests  of  the  interior,  they  are  often  equally  luxu- 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

riant  on  every  side  of  the  tree.  The  varying  shape  and 
robustness  of  boughs  are  thought  to  offer  a  better  means 
of  finding  the  points  of  the  compass;  but  none  but  In- 
dians and  hunters  grown  gray  in  the  woods,  can  profit  by 
their  occult  lessons.  The  attempts  of  Eoland  to  draw  in- 
struction from  them  served  only  to  complete  his  confusion ; 
and,  by  and  by,  giving  over  all  hope  of  succeeding  through 
any  exercise  of  skill  or  prudence,  he  left  the  matter  to  for- 
tune and  his  good  horse,  riding,  in  the  obstinacy  of  de- 
spair, whithersoever  the  weary  animal  chose  to  bear  him, 
without  knowing  whether  it  might  be  afar  from  danger, 
or  backwards  into  the  vicinity  of  the  very  enemies  whom 
he  had  labored  so  long  to  avoid. 

As  he  advanced  in  this  manner,  he  was  once  or  twice  in- 
clined to  suspect  that  he  was  actually  retracing  his  steps, 
and  approaching  the  path  by  which  he  had  entered  the 
depths  of  the  wood ;  and  on  one  occasion  he  was  almost  as- 
sured that  such  was  the  fact,  by  the  peculiar  appearance  of 
a  brambly  thicket,  containing  many  dead  trees,  which  he 
thought  he  had  noticed  while  following  in  confidence  after 
the  leading  of  Telie  Doe. 

A  nearer  approach  to  the  place  convinced  him  of  his 
error,  but  awoke  a  new  hope  in  his  mind,  by  showing  him 
that  he  was  drawing  nigh  the  haunts  of  men.  The  blazes 
of  the  axe  were  seen  on  the  trees,  running  away  in  lines, 
as  if  marked  by  the  hands  of  the  surveyor;  those  trees 
that  were  dead,  he  observed,  had  been  destroyed  by  gird- 
ling; and  on  the  edge  of  the  tangle  brake  where  they  were 
most  abundant,  he  noticed  several  stalks  of  maize,  the  relics 
of  some  former  harvest,  the  copse  itself  having  once  been, 
as  he  supposed,  a  corn-field. 

"It  is  only  a  tomahawk-improvement,"  said  Telie  Doe, 
shaking  her  head,  as  he  turned  towards  her  a  look  of  joy- 
ous inquiry ;  and  she  pointed  towards  what  seemed  to  have 
been  once  a  cabin  of  logs  of  the  smallest  size, — too  small 
indeed  for  habitation,  but  which,  more  than  half  fallen 
down,  was  rotting  away,  half  hidden  under  the  weeds  and 
brambles  that  grew,  and  seemed  to  have  grown  for  years, 


102  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

within  its  little  area:  "there  are  many  of  them  in  the 
woods  that  were  never  settled." 

Eoland  did  not  require  to  be  informed  that  a  "tomahawk- 
improvement,"  as  it  was  often  called  in  those  days,  meant 
nothing  more  than  the  box  of  logs  in  form  of  a  cabin, 
which  the  hunter  or  land  speculator  could  build  with  his 
hatchet  in  a  few  hours,  a  few  girdled  trees,  a  dozen  or  more 
grains  of  corn  from  his  pouch  thrust  into  the  soil,  with 
perhaps  a  few  poles  laid  along  the  earth  to  indicate  an  en- 
closed field;  and  that  such  improvements,  as  they  gave 
pre-emption  rights  to  the  maker,  were  often  established  by 
adventurers  to  secure  a  claim  in  the  event  of  their  not  light- 
ing on  lands  more  to  their  liking. 

Years  had  evidently  passed  by  since  the  maker  of  this 
neglected  improvement  had  visited  his  territory,  and  Eo- 
land no  longer  hoped  to  discover  such  signs  about  it  as 
might  enable  him  to  recover  his  lost  way.  His  spirits  sunk 
as  rapidly  as  they  had  risen,  and  he  was  preparing  to  make 
one  more  effort  to  escape  from  the  forest  while  the  day- 
light yet  lasted,  or  to  find  some  stronghold  in  which  to  pass 
the  night,  when  his  attention  was  drawn  to  Telie  Doe,  who 
had  ridden  a  little  m  advance,  eagerly  scanning  the  trees 
and  soil  around,  m  the  hope  that  some  ancient  mark  or 
footstep  might  paint  out  a  mode  of  escape. 

As  she  thus  looked  about  her,  moving  slowly  in  advance, 
her  pony  on  a  sudden  began  to  snort  and  prance,  and  be- 
tray other  indications  of  terror,  and  Telie  herself  was  seen 
to  become  agitated  and  alarmed,  retreating  back  upon  the 
party,  but  keeping  her  eyes  wildly  rolling  from  bush  to 
bush,  as  if  in  instant  expectation  of  seeing  an  enemy. 

"What's  the  matter?"  cried  Eoland,  riding  to  her  assist- 
ance. "Are  we  in  enchanted  land,  that  our  horses  must  be 
frightened  as  well  as  ourselves  ?" 

"He  smells  the  war-paint,"  said  Telie,  with  a  trembling 
voice; — "there  are  Indians  near  us!" 

"Nonsense!"  said  Eoland,  looking  around,  and  seeing, 
with  the  exception  of  the  copse  just  passed,  nothing  but  an 
open  forest,  without  shelter  or  harbor  for  an  ambushed  foe. 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

But  at  that  moment  Edith  caught  him  by  the  arm,  and 
turned  upon  him  a  countenance  more  wan  with  fear  than 
she  had  exhibited  upon  first  hearing  the  cries  of  Stack- 
pole.  It  expressed,  indeed,  more  than  alarm — it  was  the 
highest  degree  of  terror,,  and  the  feeling  was  so  overpower- 
ing, that  her  lips,  though  moving  as  in  the  act  of  speech, 
gave  forth  no  sound  whatever.  But  what  her  lips  refused 
to  tell,  her  finger,  though  shaking  in  the  ague  that  con- 
vulsed every  fibre  of  her  frame,  pointed  out,  and  Eoland, 
following  it  with  his  eyes,  beheld  the  object  that  had  ex- 
cited so  much  emotion. 

He  started  himself,  as  his  gaze  fell  upon  a  naked  In- 
dian stretched  under  a  tree  hard  by,  and  sheltered  from 
view  only  by  a  dead  bough  lately  fallen  from  its  trunk,  yet 
lying  so  still  and  motionless  that  he  might  easily  have  been 
passed  by  without  observation  in  the  growing  dusk  and 
twilight  of  the  woods,  had  it  not  been  for  the  instinctive 
terrors  of  the  pony,  which,  like  other  horses,  had,  and  in- 
deed, all  other  domestic  beasts  in  the  settlements,  often  thus 
pointed  out  to  their  masters  the  presence  of  an  enemy. 

The  rifle  of  the  soldier  was  in  an  instant  cocked  and  at  his 
shoulder,  while  the  pedler  and  Emperor,  as  it  happened, 
were  too  much  discomposed  at  the  spectacle  to  make  any 
such  show  of  battle.  They  gazed  blankly  upon  the  leader, 
whose  piece,  settling  down  into  an  aim  that  must  have 
been  fatal,  suddenly  wavered,  and  then  to  their  surprise, 
was  withdrawn. 

"The  slayer  has  been  here  before  us/'  he  exclaimed ;  "the 
man  is  dead  and  scalped  already  I" 

With  these  words  he  advanced  to  the  tree,  and  the  others 
following,  they  beheld  with  horror  the  body  of  a  savage  of 
vast  and  noble  proportions,  lying  on  its  face  across  the 
roots  of  the  tree,  and  glued,  it  might  almost  be  said,  to  the 
earth  by  a  mass  of  coagulated  blood,  that  had  issued  from 
the  scalped  and  axe-cloven  skull.  The  fragments  of  a  rifle, 
shattered,  as  it  seemed,  by  a  violent  blow  against  the  tree 
under  which  it  lay,  were  scattered  at  his  side,  with  a  broken 
powder-horn,  a  splintered  knife,  the  helve  of  a  tomahawk^ 


OF    THE    WOODS. 

and  other  equipments  of  a  warrior,  all  in  like  manner 
shivered  to  pieces  by  the  unknown  assassin.  The  warrior 
seemed  to  have  perished  only  after  a  fearful  struggle;  the 
earth  was  torn  where  he  lay,  and  his  hands,  yet  grasping 
the  soil,  were  dyed  a  double  red  in  the  blood  of  his  antago- 
nist, or  perhaps  in  his  own. 

While  Roland  gazed  upon  the  spectacle,  amazed,  and 
wondering  how  the  wretched  being  had  met  his  death, 
which  must  have  been  very  recently,  and  whilst  his  party 
was  within  the  sound  of  a  rifle-shot,  he  observed  a  shudder 
to  creep  over  the  apparently  lifeless  frame ;  the  fingers  re- 
laxed their  grasp  of  the  earth,  and  then  clutched  it  again 
with  violence;  a  broken,  strangling  rattle  came  from  the 
throat ;  and  a  spasm  of  convulsion  seizing  upon  every  limb, 
it  was  suddenly  raised  a  little  upon  one  arm,  so  as  to  dis- 
play the  countenance,  covered  with  blood,  the  eyes  retro- 
verted  into  their  orbits,  and  glaring  with  the  slightless 
whites.  It  was  a  horrible  spectacle, — the  last  convulsion 
of  many  that  had  shaken  the  wretched  and  insensible,  yet 
still  suffering  clay,  since  it  had  received  its  death-stroke. 

The  spasm  was  the  last,  and  but  momentary ;  yet  it  suf- 
ficed to  raise  the  body  of  the  mangled  barbarian  so  far,  that 
when  the  pang  that  excited  it  suddenly  ceased,  and  with  it 
the  life  of  the  sufferer,  the  body  rolled  over  on  the  back, 
and  thus  lay,  exposing  to  the  eyes  of  the  lookers-on  two 
gashes  wide  and  gory  on  the  breast,  traced  by  a  sharp  knife 
and  a  powerful  hand,  and,  as  it  seemed,  in  the  mere  wan- 
tonness of  a  malice  and  lust  of  blood,  which  even  death 
could  not  satisfy.  The  sight  of  these  gashes  answered  the 
question  Roland  had  asked  of  his  own  imagination;  they 
were  in  the  form  of  a  cross;  and  as  the  legend,  so  long 
derided,  of  the  forest-fiend  recurred  to  his  memory,  he 
responded,  almost  with  a  feeling  of  superstitious  awe,  to 
the  trembling  cry  of  Telie  Doe : — 

"It  is  the  Jibbenainosay !"  she  exclaimed,  staring  upon 
the  corse  with  mingled  horror  and  wonder;  "Nick  of  the 
Woods  is  up  again  in  the  forest!" 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  105 


CHAPTEK  XL 

Yet  have  they  many  baits  and  guileful  spells 
To  inveigle  and  invite  the  unwary  sense 
Of  them  that  pass  unweeting  by  the  way. 

— Comus. 

While  heaven  lends  us  grace, 

Let  us  fly  this  cursed  place; 

Not  a  waste  or  needless   sound, 

Till  we  come  to  holier  ground. 

I  shall  be  your  faithful  guide 

Through  this  gloomy  covert  wide. 

— Comus. 

THERE  was  little  really  superstitious  m  the  temper  of 
Captain  Forrester,  and  however  his  mind  might  be  at  first 
stirred  by  the  discovery  of  a  victim  of  the  redoubted  fiend 
so  devoutly  believed  in  by  his  host  of  the  preceding  even- 
ing, it  is  certain  that  his  credulity  was  not  so  much  excited 
as  his  surprise.  He  sprang  from  his  horse  and  examined 
the  body,  but  looked  in  vain  for  the  mark  of  the  bullet  that 
had  robbed  it  of  life.  No  gun-shot  wound,  at  least  none  of 
importance,  appeared  in  any  part.  There  was,  indeed,  a 
bullet-hole  in  the  left  shoulder,  and,  as  it  seemed,  very  re- 
cently inflicted ;  but  it  was  bound  up  with  leaves  and  vul- 
nerary herbs,  in  the  usual  Indian  way,  showing  that  it 
must  have  been  received  at  some  period  anterior  to  the  at- 
tack which  had  robbed  the  warrior  of  life.  The  gashes 
across  the  ribs  were  the  only  other  wounds  on  the  body; 
that  on  the  head,  made  by  a  hatchet,  was  evidently  the  one 
that  had  caused  the  warrior's  death. 

If  this  circumstance  abated  the  wonder  the  soldier  had 
first  felt  on  the  score  of  a  man  being  killed  at  so  short  a 
distance  from  his  own  party,  without  any  one  hearing  the 
shot,  he  was  still  more  at  a  loss  to  know  how  one  of  the  dead 
man's  race,  proverbial  for  wariness  and  vigilance,  should 
have  been  approached  by  any  merely  human  enemy  so  nigh 
as  to  render  fire-arms  unnecessary  to  his  destruction.  But 
that  a  human  enemy  had  effected  the  slaughter,  inexplicable 


106  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

as  it  seemed,  he  had  no  doubt ;  and  he  began  straightway  to 
search  among  the  leaves  strewn  over  the  ground  for  the 
marks  of  his  footsteps;  not  questioning  that,  if  he  could 
find  and  follow  them  for  a  little  distance,  he  should  dis- 
cover the  author  of  the  deed,  and,  which  was  of  more  mo- 
ment to  himself,  a  friend  and  guide  to  conduct  his  party 
from  the  forest. 

His  search  was,  however,  fruitless;  for,  whether  it  was 
that  the  shadows  of  evening  lay  too  dark  on  the  ground,  or 
that  eyes  more  accustomed  than  his  own  to  such  duties  were 
required  to  detect  a  trail  among  dried  forest  leaves,  it  was 
certain  that  he  failed  to  discover  a  single  footstep,  or  other 
vestige  of  the  slayer.  Nor  were  Pardon  Dodge  and  Em- 
peror, whom  he  summoned  to  his  assistance,  a  whit  more 
successful;  a  circumstance,  however,  that  rather  proved 
their  inexperience  than  the  supernatural  character  of  the 
Jibbenainosay,  whose  footprints,  as  it  appeared,  were  not 
more  difficult  to  find  than  those  of  the  dead  Indian,  for 
which  they  sought  equally  in  vain. 

While  they  were  thus  fruitlessly  engaged,  an  exclamation 
from  Telie  Doe  drew  their  attention  to  a  spectacle,  sud- 
denly observed,  which  to  her  awe-struck  eyes  presented  the 
appearance  of  the  very  being,  so  truculent  yet  supernatural, 
whose  traces,  it  seemed,  were  to  be  discovered  only  on  the 
breasts  of  his  lifeless  victims ;  and  Eoland,  looking  up,  be- 
held with  surprise,  perhaps  even  for  a  moment  with  the 
stronger  feelings  of  awe,  a  figure  stalking  through  the 
woods  at  a  distance,  looking  as  tall  and  gigantic  in  the 
growing  twilight,  as  the  airy  demon  of  the  Brocken,  or  the 
equally  colossal  spectress  seen  on  the  wild  summits  of  the 
Peruvian  Andes. 

Distance  and  the  darkness  together  rendered  the  vision 
indistinct ;  but  Koland  could  see  that  the  form  was  human, 
that  it  moved  onwards  with  rapid  strides,  and  with  its 
countenance  bent  upon  the  earth,  or  upon  another  moving 
object,  dusky  and  of  lesser  size,  that  rolled  before  it,  guid- 
ing the  way,  like  the  bowl  of  the  dervise  in  the  Arabian 
story;  and,  finally,  that  it  held  in  its  hands,  as  if  on  the 


NICK    OF    THE    WOOP-3.  '107 

watch  for  an  enemy,  an  implen'-nt  o;  Irou-'y  like  ihe 
firelock  of  a  human  fighting  ma 

At  first  it  appeared  as  if  the  fig  e  -as  appro i  Mng  the 
party,  and  that  in  a  direct  line ;  bi.  pi  -ently  Roland  per- 
ceived it  was  gradually  bending  its  «,,  urse  away  to  the  left, 
its  eyes  still  so  closely  fixed  on  its  dusky  guide, — the  very 
bear,  as  Roland  supposed,  which  was  said  so  often  to  direct 
the  steps  of  the  Jibbenainosay, — that  it  seemed  as  if  about 
to  pass  the  party  entirely  without  observation. 

But  this  it  was  no  part  of  the  young  soldier's  resolution 
to  permit;  and,  accordingly,  he  sprang  upon  his  horse,  de- 
terminated to  ride  forwards  and  bring  the  apparition  to  a 
stand,  while  it  was  yet  at  a  distance. 

"Man  or  devil,  Jibbenainosay  or  rambling  settler,"  he 
cried,  "it  is,  at  least,  no  Indian,  and  therefore  no  enemy. 
Holla,  friend!"  he  exclaimed  aloud,  and  dashed  forward, 
followed,  though  not  without  hesitation,  by  all  his  com- 
panions. 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  the  spectre  started  and  looked 
up;  and  then,  without  betraying  either  surprise  or  a  dis- 
position to  beat  a  mysterious  retreat,  advanced  to  meet  the 
soldier,  walking  rapidly,  and  waving  its  hand  all  the  while 
with  an  impatient  gesture,  as  if  commanding  the  party  to 
halt ;  a  command  which  was  immediately  obeyed  by  Roland 
and  all. 

And  now  it  was  that,  as  it  drew  nigh,  its  stature  appeared 
to  grow  less  and  less  colossal,  and  the  wild  lineaments  with 
which  fancy  had  invested  it  faded  from  sight,  leaving  the 
phantom  a  mere  man,  of  tall  frame  indeed,  but  without  a 
single  characteristic  of  dress  or  person  to  delight  the  soul 
of  wonder.  The  black  bear  dwindled  into  a  little  dog,  the 
meekest  and  most  insignificant  of  his  tribe,  being  nothing 
less  or  more,  in  fact,  than  the  identical  Peter,  which  had 
fared  so  roughly  in  the  hands,  or  rather  under  the  feet, 
of  Roaring  Ralph  Stackpole,  at  the  station,  the  day  before ; 
while  the  human  spectre,  the  supposed  fiend  of  the  woods, 
sinking  from  its  dignity  in  equal  proportion  of  abasement, 
suddenly  presented  to  Roland's  eyes  the  person  of  Peter's 


108  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

master,  the  humble,  peaceful,  harmless  Nathan  Slaughter. 

The  transformation  was  so  great  and  unexpected  (for 
even  Koland  looked  to  find  in  the  wanderer,  if  not  a  de- 
stroying angel,  at  least  some  formidable  champion  of  the 
forest), that  he  could  scarce  forbear  a  laugh  as  Nathan  came 
stalking  up,  followed  by  little  Peter,  who  stole  to  the  rear 
as  soon  as  strangers  were  perceived,  as  if  to  avoid  the  kicks 
and  cuffs  which  his  experience  had  doubtless  taught  him 
were  to  be  expected  on  all  such  occasions.  The  young 
man  felt  the  more  inclined  to  indulge  his  mirth,  as  the 
character  which  Bruce  had  given  him  of  Wandering  Na- 
than, as  one  perfectly  acquainted  with  the  woods,  convinced 
him  that  he  could  not  have  fallen  upon  a  better  person  to 
extricate  him  from  his  dangerous  dilemma,  and  thus  re- 
lieved his  breast  of  a  mountain  of  anxiety  and  distress. 

But  the  laugh  with  which  he  greeted  his  approach  found 
no  response  from  Nathan  himself,  who,  having  looked  with 
amazement  upon  Edith  and  Telie,  as  if  marvelling  what 
madness  had  brought  females  at  that  hour  into  that  wild 
desert,  turned  at  last  to  the  soldier,  demanding,  with  in- 
auspicious gravity: 

"Friend !  does  thee  think  thee  is  in  thee  own  parlor  with 
thee  women  at  home,  that  thee  shouts  so  loud,  and  laughs 
so  merrily?  or  does  thee  know  thee  is  in  a  wild  Kentucky 
forest,  with  murdering  Injuns  all  around  thee?" 

"I  trust  not,"  said  Eoland,  much  more  seriously ;  "but,  in 
truth,  we  all  took  you  for  Nick  of  the  Woods,  the  redoubt- 
able Nick  himself;  and  you  must  allow,  that  our  terrors 
were  ridiculous  enough,  when  they  could  convert  a  peaceful 
man  like  you  into  such  a  blood-thirsty  creature.  That 
there  are  Indians  in  the  wood  I  can  well  believe,  having 
the  evidence  of  Dodge,  here,  who  professes  to  have  seen  six, 
and  killed  one,  and  of  my  own  eyes  into  the  bargain.  Yon- 
der lies  one,  dead,  at  this  moment,  under  the  walnut-tree, 
killed  by  some  unknown  hand, — Telie  Doe  says  by  Nick  of 
the  Woods  himself " 

"Friend,"  said  Nathan,  interrupting  the  young  man 
without  ceremony,  "thee  had  better  think  of  living  Injuns 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  109 

than  talk  of  dead  ones;  for,  of  a  truth,  thee  is  like  to  have 
trouble  with  them!" 

"Not  now,  I  hope,  with  such  a  man  as  you  to  help  me  out 
of  the  woods.  In  the  name  of  heaven,  where  am  I,  and 
whither  am  I  going?" 

"Whither  thee  is  going,"  replied  Nathan,  "it  might  be 
hard  to  say,  seeing  that  thee  way  of  travelling  is  none  of 
the  straightest ;  nevertheless,  if  thee  continues  thee  present 
course,  it  is  my  idea  thee  is  travelling  to  the  Upper  Ford 
of  the  river,  and  will  fetch  it  in  twelve  minutes  or  there- 
abouts, and,  in  the  same  space,  find  theeself  in  the  midst  of 
thirty  ambushed  Injuns." 

"Good  heavens !"  cried  Eoland,  "have  we  then  been 
laboring  only  to  approach  the  cut-throats  ?  There  is  not  a 
moment,  then,  to  lose,  and  your  finding  us  is  even  more 
providential  than  I  thought.  Put  yourself  at  our  head, 
lead  us  out  of  this  den  of  thieves — conduct  us  to  the  Lower 
Ford — to  our  companions,  the  emigrants;  or,  if  that  may 
not  be,  take  us  back  to  the  station, — or  any  where  at  all, 
where  I  may  find  safety  for  these  females.  For  myself,  I 
am  incapable  of  guiding  them  longer." 

"Truly,"  said  Nathan,  looking  embarrassed,  "I  would 
do  what  I  could  for  thee,  but " 

"But!  Do  you  hesitate  ?"  cried  the  indignant  Virginian, 
in  extreme  indignation ;  "will  you  leave  us  to  perish,  when 
you,  and  you  alone,  can  guide  us  from  the  forest?" 

"Friend,"  said  Nathan,  in  a  submissive,  deprecating 
tone,  "I  am  a  man  of  peace;  and  peradventure,  the  party 
being  so  numerous,  the  Injuns  will  fall  upon  us,  and,  truly, 
they  will  not  spare  me  any  more  than  another ;  for  they  kill 
the  non-fighting  men  as  well  as  them  that  fight.  Truly,  I 
am  in  much  fear  for  myself;  but  a  single  man  might  es- 
cape !" 

"If  you  are  such  a  knave,  such  a  mean-spirited,  unfeel- 
ing dastard,  as  to  think  of  leaving  these  women  to  their 
fate,"  said  Koland,  giving  way  to  rage,  "be  assured  that  the 
first  step  will  be  your  last; — I  will  blow  your  brains  out 
the  moment  you  attempt  to  leave  us !" 


110  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

At  these  ireful  words  Nathan's  eyes  began  to  widen. 

"Truly,"  said  he,  "I  don't  think  thee  would  be  so  wicked ! 
But  thee  takes  by  force  that  which  I  would  have  given  with 
good  will.  It  was  not  my  purpose  to  refuse  thee  assistance, 
though  it  is  unseemly  that  one  of  my  peaceful  faith  should 
go  with  fighting  men  among  men  of  war,  as  if  to  do  battle. 
But,  friend,  if  we  should  fall  upon  the  angry  red  men, 
truly  there  will  bloodshed  come  of  it;  and  thee  will  say  to 
me,  'Nathan,  lift  up  thee  gun  and  shoot;'  and  peradven- 
ture,  if  I  say,  'Nay/  thee  will  call  me  hard  names,  as  thee 
did  before,  saying,  'If  thee  don't,  I  will  blow  thee  brains 
out  !'  Friend,  I  am  a  man  of  peace ;  and  if " 

"Trouble  yourself  no  longer  on  that  score,"  said  the  sol- 
dier, who  began  to  understand  how  the  land  lay,  and  how 
much  the  meek  Nathan's  reluctance  to  become  his  guide 
was  engendered  by  his  fears  of  being  called  on  to  take  a 
share  in  such  fighting  as  might  occur — "trouble  yourself 
no  longer,  we  will  take  care  to  avoid  a  contest." 

"Truly,"  said  Nathan,  "that  may  not  be  as  thee  chooses, 
the  Injuns  being  all  around  thee." 

"If  a  rencontre  should  be  inevitable,"  said  Eoland,  with 
a  smile,  mingling  grim  contempt  of  Nathan's  pusillanimity 
with  secret  satisfaction  at  the  thought  of  being  thus  able  to 
secure  the  safety  of  his  kinswoman,  "all  that  I  shall  expect 
of  you  will  be  to  decamp  with  the  females,  whilst  we  three, 
Emperor,  Pardon  Dodge,  and  myself,  cover  your  retreat; 
we  can,  at  least,  check  the  assailants,  if  we  die  for  it !" 

This  resolute  speech  was  echoed  by  each  of  the  other  com- 
batants, the  negro  exclaiming,  though  with  no  very  valiant 
utterance,  "Yes,  massa !  no  mistake  in  ole  Emperor ;  will 
die  for  missie  and  massa!"  while  Pardon,  who  was  fast 
relapsing  into  the  desperation  that  had  given  him  courage 
on  a  former  occasion,  cried  out,  with  direful  emphasis,  "If 
there's  no  dodging  the  critturs,  then  there  arn't;  and  if  I 
must  fight,  then  I  must;  and  them  that  takes  my  scalp 
must  gin  the  worth  on't,  or  it  a'n't  no  matter !" 

"Truly,"  said  Nathan,  who  listened  to  these  several  out- 
pourings of  spirit  with  much  complacency,  "I  am  a  man  of 


NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

peace  and  amity,  according  to  my  conscience ;  but  if  others 
are  men  of  wrath  and  battle,  according  to  theirs,  I  will  not 
take  it  upon  me  to  censure  them — nay,  not  even  if  they 
should  feel  themselves  called  upon  by  hard  necessity  to 
shed  the  blood  of  their  Injun  fellow-creatures,  who,  it  must 
be  confessed,  if  we  should  stumble  on  the  same,  will  do 
their  best  to  make  that  necessity  as  strong  as  possible.  But 
now  let  us  away,  and  see  what  help  there  is  for  us ;  though 
whither  to  go,  and  what  to  do,  there  being  Injuns  before, 
and  Injuns  behind,  and  Injuns  all  around,  truly,  truly,  it 
doth  perplex  me." 

And  so,  indeed,  it  seemed;  for  Nathan  straightway  fell 
into  a  fit  of  musing,  shaking  his  head,  and  tapping  his  fin- 
ger contemplatively  on  the  stock  of  that  rifle,  terrible  only 
to  the  animals  that  furnish  him  subsistence,  and  all  the 
while  in  such  apparent  abstraction  that  he  took  no  notice 
of  a  suggestion  made  by  Eoland, — namely,  that  he  should 
lead  the  way  to  the  deserted  ford,  where,  as  the  soldier  said, 
there  was  every  reason  to  believe  there  were  no  Indians, — 
but  continued  to  argue  the  difficulty  in  his  own  mind,  in- 
terrupting the  debate  only  to  ask  counsel  where  there 
seemed  the  least  probability  of  obtaining  it. 

"Peter!"  said  he,  addressing  himself  to  the  little  dog, 
a  human  adviser,  "I  have  my  thoughts  on  the  matter, — 
a  human  adviser,  "I  have  my  thought  on  the  matter, — 
what  does  fhee  think  of  matters  and  things?" 

"My  friend,"  cried  Eoland,  impatiently,  "this  is  no  affair 
to  be  intrusted  to  the  wisdom  of  a  brute  dog." 

"If  there  is  any  one  here  whose  wisdom  can  serve  us  bet- 
ter," said  Nathan,  meekly,  "let  him  speak.  Thee  don't 
know  Peter,  friend,  or  thee  would  use  him  with  respect. 
Many  a  long  day  has  he  followed  me  through  the  forest, 
and  many  a  time  has  he  helped  me  out  of  harm  and  peril 
from  man  and  beast,  when  I  was  at  sore  shifts  to  help  my- 
self. For  truly,  friend,  as  I  told  thee  before,  the  Injuns 
have  no  regard  for  men,  whether  men  of  peace  or  war ;  and 
an  honest,  quiet,  peace-loving  man  can  no  more  roam  the 
wood,  hunting  for  the  food  that  sustains  life,  without  the 


118  NICK    OF   THE   WOODS. 

fear  of  being  murdered,  than  a  fighting  man  in  search  of 
his  prey.  Thee  sees  now  what  little  dog  Peter  is  doing? 
He  runs  to  the  tracks  and  he  wags  his  tail: — truly,  I  am 
of  the  same  way  of  thinking !" 

"What  tracks  are  they?"  demanded  Roland,  as  he  fol- 
lowed Nathan  to  the  path  which  the  latter  had  been  pur- 
suing when  arrested  by  the  soldier,  and  where  the  little  cur 
was  now  smelling  about,  occasionally  lifting  his  head  and 
wagging  his  tail,  as  if  to  call  his  master's  attention. 

"What  tracks!"  echoed  Nathan,  looking  on  the  youth 
first  with  wonder  and  then  with  commiseration,  and  adding, 
"It  was  a  tempting  of  Providence,  friend,  for  thee  to  lead 
poor  helpless  women  into  a  wild  forest.  Does  thee  not 
know  the  tracks  of  thee  own  horses  ?" 

"'Sdeath!"  said  Roland,  looking  on  the  marks  as  Na- 
than pointed  them  out  in  the  soft  earth,  and  reflecting  with 
chagrin  how  wildly  he  had  been  rambling  for  more  than  an 
hour  since  they  had  been  impressed  on  the  soil. 

"Thee  knows  the  hoof-marks,"  said  Nathan,  now  point- 
ing, with  a  grin,  at  other  tracks  of  a  different  appearance 
among  them;  "perhaps  thee  knows  these  footprints  also?" 

"They  are  the  marks  of  footmen,"  said  the  soldier,  in 
surprise;  "but  how  they  came  there  I  know  not,  no  foot- 
men being  of  our  party." 

The  grin  that  marked  the  visage  of  the  man  of  peace 
widened  almost  into  a  laugh,  as  Roland  spoke.  "Verily," 
he  cried,  "thee  is  in  the  wrong  place,  friend,  in  the  forest ! 
If  thee  had  no  footmen  with  thee,  could  thee  have  none 
after  thee  ?  Look,  friend,  here  are  tracks,  not  of  one  man, 
«ibut  of  five,  each  stepping  on  tiptoe,  as  if  to  tread  lightly 
and  look  well  before  him, — each  with  a  moccasin  on, — each 
with  a  toe  turned  in ;  each " 

"Enough — they  were  Indians !"  said  Roland,  with  a 
shudder,  "and  they  must  have  been  close  behind  us !" 

"Now,  friend,"  said  Nathan,  "thee  will  have  more  re- 
spect for  Peter;  for  truly  it  was  Peter  told  me  of  these 
things,  when  I  was  peaceably  hunting  my  game  in  the 
forest.  He  showed  me  the  track  of  five  ignorant  persons 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  H3 

rambling  through  the  woods,  as  the  hawk  flies  in  the  air — • 
round,  round,  round,  all  the  time, — or  like  an  ox  that  has 
been  browsing  on  the  leaves  of  the  buck-eye;*  and  he 
showed  me  that  five  evil-minded  Shawnees  were  pursuing 
in  their  trail.  So  thinks  I  to  myself,  'these  poor  creatures 
will  come  to  mischief,  if  no  one  gives  them  warning  of  their 
danger;'  and  therefore  I  started  to  follow,  Peter  showing 
me  the  way.  And  truly,  if  there  can  any  good  come  of  my 
finding  thee  in  this  hard  case,  thee  must  give  all  the  thanks 
and  all  the  praise  to  poor  Peter  \" 

"I  will  never  more  speak  ill  of  a  dog  as  long  as  I  live/' 
said  Eoland.  "But  let  us  away.  I  thought  our  best  course 
was  to  the  Lower  Ford;  but  I  find  I  am  mistaken.  We 
must  away  in  the  opposite  direction." 

"Not  so,"  said  Nathan,  coolly ;  "Peter  is  of  opinion  that 
we  must  run  the  tracks  over  again;  and  truly,  so  am  I. 
We  must  follow  these  same  five  Injuns ;  it  is  as  much  as  our 
lives  are  worth." 

"You  are  mad !"  said  Eoland.  "This  will  be  to  bring  us 
right  upon  the  skulking  cut-throats.  Let  us  fly  in  another 
direction ;  the  forest  is  open  before  us." 

"And  how  long  does  thee  think  it  will  keep  open? 
Friend,  I  tell  thee,  thee  is  surrounded  by  Injuns.  On  the 
south,  they  lie  at  the  ford ;  on  the  west  is  the  river  rolling 
along  in  a  flood ;  and  at  the  east,  are  the  roads  of  Shawnees 
on  the  scout.  Verily,  friend,  there  is  but  little  comfort  to 
think  of  proceeding  in  any  direction,  even  to  the  north, 
where  there  are  five  murdering  creatures  full  before  us. 
But  this  is  my  thought,  and  I  rather  think  it  is  Peter's ;  if 
we  go  to  the  north,  we  know  pretty  much  all  the  evil  that 
lies  before  us,  and  how  to  avoid  it;  whereas  by  turning 
to  either  of  the  other  quarters,  we  go  into  danger  blind- 
fold." 


*  The  buck-eye,  or  American  horse-chestnut,  seems  to  be  uni- 
versally considered  in  the  West  a  mortal  poison,  both  fruit  and 
leaves.  Cattle  affected  by  it,  are  said  to  play  many  remarkable 
antics,  as  if  intoxicated, — turning,  twisting,  and  rolling  about 
and  around,  until  death  closes  their  agonies. 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"And  how  shall  we  avoid  these  five  villains  before  us?" 
asked  Eoland,  anxiously. 

"By  keeping  them  before  us,"  replied  Nathan;  "that  is, 
friend,  by  following  them,  until  such  time  as  they  turn 
where  thee  turned  before  them  (and,  I  warrant  me,  the 
evil  creatures  will  turn  wheresoever  thee  trail  does)  ;  when 
we,  if  we  have  good  luck,  may  slip  quietly  forward,  and 
leave  them  to  follow  us,  after  first  taking  the  full  swing  of 
all  thee  roundabout  vagaries." 

"Take  your  own  course,"  said  Eoland;  "it  may  be  the 
best.  We  can,  at  the  worst,  but  stumble  upon  these  five; 
and  then  (granting  that  you  can,  in  the  meanwhile,  bear 
the  females  off),  I  will  answer  for  keeping  two  or  three  of 
the  villains  busy.  Take  your  own  course,"  he  repeated; 
"the  night  is  darkening  around  us — we  must  do  some- 
thing." 

"Thee  say  the  truth,"  cried  Nathan.  "As  for  stumbling 
unawares  on  the  five  evil  persons  thee  is  in  dread  of,  trust 
Peter  for  that ;  thee  shall  soon  see  what  a  friend  thee  has 
in  little  dog  Peter.  Truly,  for  a  peaceful  man  like  me,  it 
is  needful  I  should  have  some  one  to  tell  me  when  dan- 
gerous persons  are  nigh." 

With  these  words,  which  were  uttered  with  a  good  coun- 
tenance, showing  how  much  his  confidence  in  the  appar- 
ently insignificant  Peter  preserved  him  from  the  fears 
natural  to  his  character  and  situation,  the  man  of  peace 
proceeded  to  marshal  the  company  in  a  line,  directing  them 
to  follow  him  in  that  order,  and  earnestly  impressing  upon 
all  the  necessity  of  preserving  strict  silence  upon  the 
march.  This  being  done,  he  boldly  strode  forwards,  tak- 
ing a  post  at  least  two  hundred  paces  in  advance  of  the 
others,  at  which  distance,  as  he  gave  Eoland  to  under- 
stand, he  desired  the  party  to  follow,  as  was  the  more  neces- 
sary, since  their  being  mounted  rendered  them  the  more 
liable  to  be  observed  by  distant  enemies. 

"If  thee  sees  me  wave  my  hand  above  my  head,"  were 
his  last  instructions  to  the  young  soldier,  who  began  to  be 
well  pleased  with  his  readiness  and  forecast,  "bring  thee 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  115 

people  to  a  halt;  if  thee  sees  me  drop  upon  the  ground, 
lead  them  under  the  nearest  cover  and  kept  them  quiet; 
for  thee  may  then  be  certain  there  is  mischief,  or  mis- 
chievous people  nigh  at  hand.  But,  verily,  friend,  with 
Peter's  help,  we  will  circumvent  them  all." 

With  this  cheering  assurance,  he  now  strode  forward  to 
his  station,  and  coming  to  a  halt  with  his  dog  Peter,  Eoland 
immediately  beheld  the  latter  run  to  a  post  forty  or  fifty 
paces  further  in  advance,  when  he  paused  to  receive  the 
final  orders  of  his  master,  which  were  given  with  a  motion 
of  the  same  hand  that  a  moment  after  beckoned  the  party 
to  follow. 

Had  Eoland  been  sufficiently  nigh  to  take  note  of  pro- 
ceedings, he  would  have  admired  the  conduct  of  the  little 
brute,  the  unerring  accuracy  with  which  he  pursued  the 
trail,  the  soft  and  noiseless  motion  with  which  he  stepped 
from  leaf  to  leaf,  casting  his  eyes  ever  and  anon  to  the 
right  and  left,  and  winding  the  air  before  him  as  if  in 
reality  conscious  of  peril,  and  sensible  that  the  welfare  of 
the  six  mortals  at  his  heels  depended  upon  the  faithful 
exercise  of  all  his  sagacity.  These  things,  however,  from 
the  distance,  Eoland  was  unable  to  observe;  but  he  saw 
enough  to  convince  him  that  the  animal  addressed  itself  to 
its  task  with  as  much  zeal  and  prudence  as  its  master. 

A  sense  of  security,  the  first  felt  for  several  hours,  now 
began  to  disperse  the  gloom  that  had  oppressed  his  spirits ; 
and  Edith's  countenance,  throughout  the  whole  of  the  ad- 
venture a  faithful,  though  doubtless  somewhat  exaggerated, 
reflection  of  his  own,  also  lost  much  of  its  melancholy  and 
terror,  though  without,  at  any  moment,  regaining  the 
cheerful  smiles  that  had  decked  it  at  the  setting-out.  It 
was  left  for  Eoland  alone,  as  his  mind  regained  its  elas- 
ticity, to  marvel  at  the  motley  additions  by  which  his 
party  had  increased  in  so  short  a  time  to  twice  its  original 
numbers,  and  to  speculate  on  the  prospects  of  an  expedi- 
tion committed  to  the  guidance  of  such  a  conductor  as  little 
Peter. 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

I  heard  the  tread 
Of  hateful  steps!    I  must  be  viewless  now. 

— Comus. 

THE  distance  at  which  Roland  with  his  party  followed 
the  guides,  and  the  gloom  of  the  woods,  prevented  his  mak- 
ing any  close  observations  upon  their  motions,  unless  when 
some  swelling  ridge,  nearly  destitute  of  trees,  brought 
them  nearer  the  light  of  the  upper  air.  At  other  times,  he 
could  do  little  more  than  follow  with  his  eye  the  tall  figure 
of  Nathan,  plunging  from  shadow  to  shadow,  and  knoll 
to  knoll,  with  a  pace  both  free  and  rapid,  and  little  re- 
sembling the  shambling,  hesitating  step  with  which  he 
moved  among  the  haunts  of  his  contemners  and  oppressors. 
As  for  the  dog,  little  Peter,  he  was  only  with  difficulty  seen 
when  ascending  some  such  illuminated  knoll  as  has  been 
mentioned,  when  he  might  be  traced  creeping  along  with 
unabated  vigilance  and  caution. 

It  was  while  ascending  one  of  these  low,  and  almost  bare 
swells  of  ground,  that  the  little  animal  gave  the  first  proof 
of  that  sagacity,  or  wisdom,  as  Nathan  called  it,  on  which 
the  latter  seemed  to  rely  for  safety  so  much  more  than  on 
his  own  experience  and  address.  He  had  no  sooner  reached 
the  summit  of  the  knoll  than  he  abruptly  came  to  a  stand, 
and  by  and  by  cowed  to  the  earth,  as  if  to  escape  the  ob- 
servation of  enemies  in  front,  whose  presence  he  indi- 
cated in  no  other  way,  unless  by  a  few  twitches  and  flour- 
ishes of  his  tail,  which,  a  moment  after,  became  as  rigid 
and  motionless  as  if,  with  his  body,  it  had  been  suddenly 
converted  into  stone.  The  whole  action,  as  far  as  Roland 
could  note  it,  was  similar  to  that  of  a  well-trained  spaniel 
marking  game,  and  such  was  the  interpretation  the  soldier 
put  upon  it,  until  Nathan,  suddenly  stopping,  waved  his 
hand  as  a  signal  to  the  party  to  halt,  which  was  immediately 
obeyed. 

The  next  moment  Nathan  was  seen  creeping  up  the  hill, 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

to  investigate  the  cause  of  alarm,  which  he  proceeded  to  do 
with  great  caution,  as  if  well  persuaded  there  was  danger 
at  hand.  Indeed,  he  had  not  yet  reached  the  brow  of  the 
eminence,  when  Roland  beheld  him  suddenly  drop  upon 
his  face,  thereby  giving  the  best  evidence  of  the  existence  of 
peril  of  an  extreme  and  urgent  character. 

The  young  Virginian  remembered  the  instructions  of  his 
guide,  to  seek  shelter  for  his  party,  the  moment  this  signal 
was  given;  and,  accordingly,  he  led  his  followers  without 
delay  into  a  little  tangled  brake  hard  by,  where  he  charged 
them  to  remain  in  quiet,  until  the  cause  of  the  interruption 
should  be  ascertained  and  removed.  From  the  edge  of  the 
brake  he  could  see  the  guide,  still  maintaining  his  position 
on  his  face,  yet  dragging  himself  upward  like  a  snake,  until 
he  had  reached  the  top  of  the  hill  and  looked  over  into  the 
maze  of  the  forest  beyond. 

In  this  situation  he  lay  for  several  moments,  apparently 
deeply  engaged  with  the  scene  before  him ;  when  Forrester, 
impatient  of  his  silence  and  delay,  anxiously  interested  in 
every  turn  of  events,  and  perhaps  unwilling,  at  a  season  of 
difficulty,  to  rely  altogether  on  Nathan's  unaided  observa- 
tions, gave  his  horse  in  charge  of  Emperor,  and  ascended 
the  eminence  himself;  taking  care,  however,  to  do  as  Na- 
than had  done,  and  throw  himself  upon  the  ground  when 
near  its  summit. 

In  this  way  he  succeeded  in  creeping  to  Nathan's  side, 
when  the  cause  of"  alarm  was  soon  made  manifest. 

The  forest  beyond  the  ridge  was,  for  a  considerable  dis- 
tance, open  and  free  from  undergrowth,  the  trees  standing 
wide  apart,  and  thus  admitting  a  broad  extent  of  vision, 
though  now  contracted  by  the  increasing  dusk  of  evening. 
Through  this  expanse,  and  in  its  darkest  corner,  flitting 
dimly  along,  Roland's  eye  fell  upon  certain  shadows,  at 
first  vague  and  indistinct,  but  which  soon  assumed  the 
human  form,  marching  one  after  the  other  in  a  line,  and 
apparently  approaching  the  very  ridge  on  which  he  lay, 
each  with  the  stealthy  yet  rapid  pace  of  a  wild-cat.  They 
were  but  five  in  number;  but  the  order  of  their  march,  the 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

appearance  of  their  bodies,  seemingly  half  naked,  and  the 
busy  intentness  with  which  they  pursued  the  trail,  left  so 
broad  and  open  by  the  inexperienced  wanderers,  would  have 
convinced  Roland  of  their  savage  character,  had  he  pos- 
sessed no  other  evidence  than  that  of  his  own  senses. 

"They  are  Indians  \"  he  muttered  in  Nathan's  ear. 

"Shawnee  creatures,"  said  the  latter,  with  edifying  cool- 
ness ; — "and  will  think  no  more  of  taking  the  scalps  of  thee 
two  poor  women  than  of  digging  off  thee  own/' 

"There  are  but  five  of  them,  and "  The  young  man 

paused,  and  the  gloom  that  a  spirit  so  long  harassed  by 
fears,  though  fears  for  another,  had  spread  over  his  counte- 
nance, was  exchanged  for  a  look  of  fierce  decision  that  bet- 
ter became  his  feature.  "Harkee,  man,"  he  abruptly  re- 
sumed, "we  cannot  pass  the  ridge  without  being  seen  by 
them ;  our  horses  are  exhausted,  and  we  cannot  hope  to  es- 
cape them  by  open  flight." 

"Verily,"  said  Nathan,  "thee  speaks  the  truth." 

"Nor  can  we  leave  the  path  we  are  now  pursuing,  with- 
out fear  of  falling  into  the  hands  of  a  party  more  numer- 
ous and  powerful.  Our  only  path  of  escape,  you  said,  was 
over  this  ridge,  and  towards  yonder  Lower  Ford?" 

"Truly,"  said  Nathan,  with  a  lugubrious  look  of  assent. 
"what  thee  says  is  true;  but  how  we  are  to  fly  these  evil- 
minded  creatures,  with  poor  frightened  women  hanging  to 
our  legs " 

"We  will  not  fly  them !"  said  Eoland,  the  frown  of  battle 
gathering  on  his  brows.  "Yonder  crawling  reptiles — rep- 
tiles in  spirit  as  in  movement, — have  been  dogging  our 
steps  for  hours,  waiting  for  the  moment  when  to  strike  with 
advantage  at  my  defenceless  followers;  and  they  will  dog 
us  still,  if  permitted,  until  there  is  no  escape  from  their 
knives  and  hatchets  for  either  man  or  woman.  There  is  a 
way  of  stopping  them — there  is  a  way  of  requiting  them !" 

"Truly,"  said  Nathan,  "there  is  no  such  way;  unless  we 
were  wicked  men  of  the  world  and  fighting-men,  and  would 
wage  battle  with  them." 

"Why  not  meet  the  villains  in  their  own  way?    There 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

are  but  five  of  them, — and  footmen  too !  By  heavens, 
we  will  charge  them, — cut  them  to  pieces,  and  so  rid  the 
wood  of  them !  Four  strong  men  like  us  fighting,  too,  in 
defence  of  women " 

"Four!"  echoed  Nathan,  looking  wonder  and  alarm  to- 
gether; "does  thee  think  to  have  me  do  the  wicked  thing  of 
shedding  blood?  Thee  should  remember,  friend,  that  I 
am  a  follower  of  peaceful  doctrines,  a  man  of  peace  and 
amity." 

"What!"  said  Eoland,  warmly,  "would  you  not  defend 
your  life  from  the  villains  ?  Would  you  suffer  yourself  to 
be  tomahawked,  unresisting,  when  a  touch  of  the  trigger 
under  your  finger,  a  blow  of  the  knife  at  your  belt,  would 
preserve  the  existence  nature  and  heaven  alike  call  on  you 
to  protect?  Would  you  lie  still  like  a  fettered  ox  to  be 
butchered?" 

"Truly,"  said  Nathan,  "I  would  take  myself  away;  or, 
if  that  might  not  be,  why  then,  friend, — verily,  friend,  if  I 
could  do  nothing  else, — truly,  I  must  then  give  myself  up 
to  be  murdered." 

"Spiritless,  mad,  or  hypocritical!"  cried  Roland,  with 
mingled  wonder  and  contempt.  Then  grasping  his  strange 
companion  by  the  arm,  he  cried,  "Harkee,  man,  if  you 
would  not  strike  a  blow  for  yourself,  would  you  not  strike 
it  for  another  ?  What  if  you  had  a  wife,  a  parent,  a  child, 
lying  beneath  the  uplifted  hatchet,  and  you  with  these 
arms  in  your  hands,  what !  do  you  tell  me  you  would  stand 
by  and  see  them  murdered  ? — I  say  a  wife,  or  child !  the 
wife  of  your  bosom,  the  child  of  your  heart! — would  you 
see  them  murdered?" 

At  this  stirring  appeal,  uttered  with  indescribable  energy 
and  passion,  though  only  in  a  whisper,  Nathan's  counte- 
nance changed  from  dark  to  pale,  and  his  arm  trembled  in 
the  soldier's  grasp.  He  turned  upon  him  also  a  look  of 
extraordinary  wildness,  and  muttered  betwixt  his  teeth  an 
answer  that  betokened  as  much  confusion  of  mind  as  agi- 
tation of  spirits. 

"Friend/'  he  said,  "whoever  thee  is,  it  matters  nothing  to 


120  STICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

thee  what  might  happen,  or  has  happened,  in  such  case 
made  and  provided.  I  am  a  man,  thee  is  another,  thee 
has  thee  conscience,  and  I  have  mine.  If  thee  will  fight, 
fight;  settle  it  with  thee  conscience.  If  thee  don't  like  to 
see  thee  kinswoman  murdered,  and  thee  thinks  thee  has  a 
call  to  battle,  do  thee  best  with  sword  and  pistol,  gun  and 
tomahawk;  kill  and  slay  to  thee  liking;  if  thee  conscience 
finds  no  fault  with  thee,  neither  will  I.  But  as  for  me,  let 
the  old  Adam  of  the  flesh  stir  me  as  it  may,  I  have  no  one 
to  fight  for ;  wife  or  child,  parent  or  kinsman,  I  have  none ; 
if  thee  will  hunt  the  world  over,  thee  will  not  find  one  in 
it  that  is  my  kinsman  or  relative." 

"But  I  ask  you,"  said  Eoland,  somewhat  surprised  at  the 
turn  of  Nathan's  answer,  "I  ask  you,  if  you  had  a  wife  or 
child " 

"But  I  have  not/'  cried  Nathan,  interrupting  him  vehe- 
mently; "and,  therefore,  friend,  why  should  thee  speak  of 
them  ?  Them  that  are  dead,  let  them  rest ;  they  can  never 
cry  to  me  more.  Think  of  thee  own  blood,  and  do  what 
seems  best  to  thee  for  the  good  thereof." 

"Assuredly  I  would,"  said  Roland,  who,  however  much 
his  curiosity  was  roused  by  the  sudden  agitation  of  his 
guide,  had  little  time  to  think  of  any  matters  but  his  own. 
"Assuredly  I  would,  could  I  only  count  upon  your  hearty 
assistance.  I  tell  you,  man,  my  blood  boils  to  look  at  yon- 
der crawling  serpents,  and  to  think  of  the  ferocious  object 
with  which  they  are  dogging  at  my  heels ;  and  I  would  give 
a  year  of  my  life, — ay,  if  the  whole  number  of  years  were 
but  ten,  one  whole  year  of  all, — for  the  privilege  of  paying 
them  for  their  villainy  beforehand." 

"Thee  has  thee  two  men  to  back  thee,"  said  Nathan,  who 
had  now  recovered  his  composure;  "and  with  these  two 
men,  if  thee  is  warlike  enough,  thee  might  do  as  much  mis- 
chief as  thee  conscience  calls  for.  But,  truly,  it  becomes 
not  a  man  of  peace  like  me  to  speak  of  strife  and  blood- 
shed. Yet,  truly,"  he  added,  hastily,  "I  think  there  must 
mischief  come  of  this  meeting;  for,  verily,  the  evil  crea- 
tures are  leaving  thee  tracks,  and  coming  towards  us !" 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  121 

"They  stop !"  said  Forrester,  eagerly, — "they  look  about 
them — they  have  lost  the  track, — they  are  coming  this 
way !  You  will  not  fight,  yet  you  may  counsel.  What 
shall  I  do?  Shall  I  attack  them?  What  can  I  do?" 

"Friend,"  replied  Nathan  briskly,  "I  can't  tell  thee 
what  thee  can  do ;  but  I  can  tell  thee  what  a  man  of  Ken- 
tucky, a  wicked  fighter  of  Injuns,  would  do  in  such  a  case 
made  and  provided.  He  would  betake  him  to  the  thicket 
where  he  had  hidden  his  women  and  horses,  and  he  would 
lie  down  with  his  fighting-men  behind  a  log;  and  truly,  if 
those  evil-disposed  Injun-men  were  foolish  enough  to  ap- 
proach, he  would  fire  upon  them  with  his  three  guns,  tak- 
ing them  by  surprise,  and  perhaps,  wicked  man,  killing  the 
better  half  of  them  on  the  spot;  and  then " 

"And  then,"  interrupted  Roland,  taking  fire  at  the  idea, 
"he  would  spring  on  his  horse,  and  make  sure  of  the  rest 
with  sword  and  pistol  ?" 

"Truly,"  said  Nathan,  "he  would  do  no  such  thing; 
seeing  that  the  moment  he  lifted  up  his  head  above  the 
logs,  he  would  be  liker  to  have  an  Injun  bullet  through  it 
than  to  see  the  wicked  creature  that  shot  it.  Verily,  a 
man  of  Kentucky  would  be  wiser.  He  would  take  the  pis- 
tols thee  speaks  of,  supposing  it  were  his  good  luck  to  have 
them,  and  let  fly  at  the  evil-minded  creatures  with  them 
also;  not  hoping,  indeed,  to  do  any  execution  with  such 
small  ware,  but  to  make  the  Injuns  believe  there  were  as 
many  enemies  as  fire-arms;  and,  truly,  if  they  did  not 
take  to  their  heels  after  such  a  second  volley,  they  would 
be  foolisher  Injuns  than  were  ever  before  heard  of  in  Ken- 
tucky." 

"By  heaven,"  said  Forrester,  "it  is  good  advice,  and  I 
will  take  it !" 

"Advice,  friend!  I  do  not  advise  thee,"  said  Nathan, 
hastily ;  "truly,  I  advise  to  nothing  but  peace  and  amity. — 
I  only  tell  thee  what  a  wicked  Kentucky  fighting-man  would 
do, — a  man  that  might  think  it,  as  many  of  them  do,  as 
lawful  to  shoot  a  prowling  Injun  as  a  skulking  bear." 

'And  I  would  to  heaven,"  said  Roland,  "I  had  but  two, 


«*, 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

— nay,  but  one  of  them  with  me  this  instant.  A  man  like 
Bruce  were  worth  the  lives  of  a  dozen  such  scum.  I  must 
do  my  best/' 

"Truly,  friend/'  said  Nathan,  who  had  listened  to  the 
warlike  outpourings  of  the  young  soldier  with  a  degree  of 
complacency  and  admiration  one  would  have  scarce  looked 
for  in  a  man  of  his  peaceful  character,  "thee  has  a  con- 
science of  thee  own,  and  if  thee  will  fight  these  Injun-men 
from  an  ambush,  truly  I  will  not  censure  nor  exhort  thee  to 
the  contrary.  If  thee  can  rely  upon  thee  two  men,  the 
colored  person  and  the  other,  thee  may  hold  the  evil  crea- 
tures exceedingly  uneasy." 

"Alas,"  said  Eoland,  the  fire  departing  from  his  eyes, 
"you  remind  me  of  my  weakness.  My  men  will  not  fight, 
unless  from  sheer  desperation.  Emperor,  I  know  to  be  a 
coward,  and  Dodge,  I  fear,  is  no  better." 

"Verily,"  said  Nathan,  bluffly,  "it  was  foolish  of  thee  to 
come  into  the  woods  in  such  company — foolisher  still  to 
think  of  fighting  five  Injun-men  with  such  followers  to 
back  thee;  and  truly,"  he  added,  "it  was  foolishest  of  all 
to  put  the  safe-keeping  of  such  helpless  creatures  into  the 
hands  of  one  who  can  neither  fight  for  them  nor  for  him- 
self. Nevertheless,  thee  is  as  a  babe  and  suckling  in  the 
woods,  and  Peter  and  I  will  do  the  best  we  can  for  thee. 
It  is  lucky  for  thee  that  as  thee  cannot  fight,  thee  has  the 
power  to  fly;  and,  truly,  for  the  poor  women's  sake,  it  is 
better  thee  should  leave  the  woods  in  peace." 

With  that,  Nathan  directed  the  young  man's  attention  to 
the  pursuing  foes,  who,  having  by  some  mischance  lost  the 
trail,  had  scattered  about  in  search  of  it,  and  at  last  re- 
covered it ;  though  not  before  two  of  them  had  approached 
so  nigh  the  ridge  on  which  the  observers  lay  as  to  give  just 
occasion  for  fear  lest  they  should  cross  it  immediately  in 
front  of  the  party  of  travellers. 

The  deadly  purpose  with  which  the  barbarians  were  pur- 
suing him,  Eoland  could  infer  from  the  cautions  silence 
preserved  while  they  were  searching  for  the  lost  tracks ;  and 
even  when  these  were  regained,  the  discovery  was  com- 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

municated  from  one  to  another  merely  by  signs,  not  a  man 
uttering  so  much  as  a  word.  In  a  few  moments  they  were 
seen  again,  formed  in  single  file,  stealing  through  the 
woods  with  a  noiseless  but  rapid  pace,  and  fortunately  bend- 
ing their  steps  towards  a  distant  part  of  the  ridge,  where 
Eoland  and  his  companions  had  so  lately  crossed  it. 

"Get  thee  down  to  the  people,"  said  Nathan ;  "lead  them 
behind  the  thicket,  and  when  thee  sees  me  beckon  thee, 
carry  them  boldly  over  the  hill.  Thee  must  pass  it  while 
the  Shawnee-men  are  behind  yonder  clump  of  trees,  which 
is  so  luckily  for  thee  on  the  very  comb  of  the  swell.  Be 
quick  in  obeying,  friend,  or  the  evil  creatures  may  catch 
sight  of  thee ;  thee  has  no  time  to  lose." 

The  ardor  of  battle  once  driven  from  his  mind,  Eoland 
was  able  to  perceive  the  folly  of  risking  a  needless  contest 
betwixt  a  superior  body  of  wild  Indian  warriors  and  his 
own  followers.  But  had  his  warlike  spirit  been  at  its 
height,  it  must  have  been  quelled  in  a  moment  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  his  party,  left  in  the  thicket,  during  his  brief 
absence  on  the  hill,  to  feed  their  imaginations  with  terrors 
of  every  appalling  character;  in  which  occupation,  as  he 
judged  at  a  glance,  the  gallant  Dodge  and  Emperor  had 
been  even  more  industrious  than  the  females,  the  negro 
looking  the  very  personification  of  mute  horror,  and  bend- 
ing low  on  his  saddle,  as  if  expecting  every  instant  a  shower 
of  Indian  bullets  to  be  let  fly  into  the  thicket ;  while  Pardon 
expressed  the  state  of  his  feelings  by  crying  aloud,  as  soon 
as  Roland  appeared,  "I  say,  capting,  if  you  seed  'em,  a'n't 
there  no  dodging  of  ?em  no  how  ?" 

"We  can  escape,  Eoland !"  exclaimed  Edith,  anticipating 
the  soldier's  news  from  his  countenance ;  "the  good  man  can 
save  us?" 

"I  hope,  I  trust  so,"  replied  the  kinsman;  "we  are  in 
no  immediate  danger.  Be  composed,  and,  for  your  lives, 
all  now  preserve  silence." 

A  few  words  served  to  explain  the  posture  of  affairs,  and 
a  few  seconds  to  transfer  the  party  from  its  ignoble  hiding- 
place  to  the  open,  wood  behind  it;  when  Roland;  casting  his 


124  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

e}^es  to  where  Nathan  lay  motionless  on  the  hill,  awaited 
impatiently  the  expected  signal.  Fortunately,  it  was  soon 
given;  and  in  a  few  moments  more  the  party,  moving 
briskly  but  stealthily  over  the  eminence,  had  plunged  into 
the  dark  forest  beyond,  leaving  the  baffled  pursuers  to  fol- 
low afterwards  as  they  might. 

"Now,"  said  Nathan,  taking  post  at  Roland's  side,  and 
boldly  directing  his  course  across  the  track  of  the  enemy, 
"we  have  the  evil  creatures  behind  us,  and,  truly,  there  we 
will  keep  them.  And  now,  friend  soldier,  since  such  thee 
is,  thee  must  make  thee  horses  do  duty,  tired  or  not ;  for  if 
we  reach  not  the  Old  Ford  before  darkness  closes  on  us,  we 
may  find  but  ill-fortune  crossing  the  waters.  Hark,  friend  ! 
does  thee  hear?"  he  exclaimed,  coming  to  a  pause,  as  a 
sudden  and  frightful  yell  suddenly  rose  in  the  forest  be- 
yond the  ridge,  obviously  proceeding  from  the  five  foes,  and 
expressing  at  once  surprise,  horror,  and  lamentation.  "Did 
thee  not  say  thee  found  a  dead  Injun  in  the  wood  ?" 

"We  did,"  replied  the  soldier,  "the  body  of  an  Indian 
horribly  mangled ;  and,  if  I  am  to  believe  the  strange  story 
I  have  heard  of  the  Jibbenainosay,  it  was  some  of  his  bloody 
work." 

"It  is  good  for  thee,  then,  and  the  maidens  that  is  with 
thee,'*  said  Nathan;  "for,  truly,  the  evil  creatures  have 
found  that  same  dead  man,  being  doubtless  one  of  their 
own  scouting  companions ;  and,  truly,  they  say  the  Injuns, 
in  such  cases  made  and  provided,  give  over  their  evil  de- 
signs in  terror  and  despair;  in  which  case,  as  I  said,  it 
will  be  good  for  thee  and  thee  companions.  But  follow, 
friends,  and  tarry  not  to  ask  questions.  Thee  poor  women 
shall  come  to  no  harm,  if  Nathan  Slaughter  or  little  dog 
Peter  can  help  them." 

With  these  words  of  encouragement,  Nathan,  bounding 
along  with  an  activity  that  kept  him  ever  in  advance  of  the 
mounted  wanderers,  led  the  way  from  the  open  forest  into 
a  labyrinth  of  brakes  and  bogs,  through  paths  traced  rather 
by  wolves  and  bears  than  any  nobler  animals,  so  wild,  so 
difficult,  and  sometimes  in  appearance  so  impracticable  to 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  125 

be  pursued,  that  Roland,  bewildered  from  the  first,  looked 
every  moment  to  find  himself  plunged  into  difficulties  from 
which  neither  the  zeal  of  Nathan  nor  the  sagacity  of  the 
unpretending  Peter  could  extricate  his  weary  followers. 

The  night  was  coming  fast,  and  coming  with  clouds  and 
distant  peals  of  thunder,  the  harbingers  of  new  tempests; 
and  how  the  journey  was  to  be  continued,  when  darkness 
should  at  last  invest  them,  through  the  wild  mazes  of  vine 
and  brake  in  which  they  now  wandered,  was  a  question 
which  he  scarce  durst  answer.  But  night  came,  and  still 
Nathan  led  the  way  with  unabated  confidence  and  activity, 
professing  a  very  hearty  contempt  for  all  perils  and  diffi- 
culties of  the  woods,  except  such  as  proceeded  from  "evil- 
minded  Shawnee  creatures;"  and,  indeed,  averring  that 
there  was  scarce  a  nook  in  the  forest  for  miles  around  with 
which  he  was  not  as  well  acquainted  as  with  the  patches  of 
his  own  leathern  garments. 

"Truly,"  said  he,  "when  I  first  came  to  this  land  I  did 
make  me  a  little  cabin  in  a  place  hard  by;  but  the  Injuns 
burned  the  same;  and,  verily,  had  it  not  been  for  little 
Peter,  who  gave  me  a  hint  of  their  coming,  I  should  have 
been  burned  with  it.  Be  of  good  heart,  friend ;  if  thee  will 
keep  the  ill-meaning  Injun-men  out  of  my  way,  I  will  ad- 
venture to  lead  thee  any  where  thee  will,  within  twenty 
miles  of  this  place,  on  the  darkest  night,  and  that  through 
the  thickest  cane,  or  deepest  swamp  thee  can  lay  eyes  on — 
that  is,  if  I  have  but  little  dog  Peter  to  help  me.  Courage, 
friend;  thee  is  now  coming  fast  to  the  river;  and  if  we 
have  but  good  luck  in  crossing  it,  thee  shall,  peradventure, 
find  theeself  nearer  thee  friends  than  thee  thinks  for." 

This  agreeable  assurance  was  a  cordial  to  the  spirits  of 
all,  and  the  travellers  now  finding  themselves,  though  still . 
in  profound  darkness,  moving  through  the  open  woodlands 
again,  nstead  of  the  maze  of  copses  that  had  so  long  con- 
fined them,  Roland  took  advantage  of  the  change  to  place 
himself  at  Nathan's  side,  and  endeavor  to  draw  from  him 
some  account  of  his  history,  and  the  causes  that  had  brought 
him  into  a  position  and  way  of  life  so  ill-suited  to  his  faith 


126  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

and  peaceful  habits.  To  his  questions,  however,  Nathan 
seemed  little  disposed  to  return  satisfactory  answers,  ex- 
cept in  so  far  as  they  related  to  his  adventures  since  the 
period  of  his  coming  to  the  frontier;  of  which  he  spoke 
very  freely,  though  succinctly. 

He  had  built  him  cabins,  like  other  lonely  settlers,  and 
planted  corn-fields,  from  which  he  had  been  driven,  time 
after  time,  by  the  evil  Shawnees,  incurring  frequent  perils 
and  hardships;  which,  with  the  persecutions  he  endured 
from  his  more  warlike  and  intolerant  neighbors,  gradually 
drove  him  into  the  forest  to  seek  a  precarious  subsistence 
from  the  spoils  of  the  chase. 

As  to  his  past  life,  and  the  causes  that  had  made  him  a 
dweller  of  the  wilderness,  he  betrayed  so  little  inclination 
to  satisfy  the  young  man's  curiosity,  that  Eoland  dropped 
the  subject  entirely,  not  however  without  suspecting  that 
the  imputations  Bruce  had  cast  upon  his  character  might 
have  had  some  foundation  in  truth. 

But  while  conning  these  things  over  in  his  mind,  on  a 
sudden  the  soldier  stepped  from  the  dark  forest  into  a 
broad  opening,  canopied  only  by  the  sky,  sweeping  like  a 
road  through  the  wood,  in  which  it  was  lost  behind  him; 
while,  in  front,  it  sank  abruptly  into  a  deep  hollow  or 
gulf,  in  which  was  heard  the  sullen  rush  of  an  impetuous 
river. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Kosse.  I  have  words 

That  would  be  howPd  out  in  the  desert  air, 
Where    hearing   should    not   catch   them. 

Macduff.  What  concern  they? 

— Macbeth. 

THE  roar  of  the  moving  flood,  for  such  by  its  noise  it 
seemed  as  they  descended  the  river-bank,  to  which  Nathan 
had  so  skilfully  conducted  the  party,  awoke*  in  Roland's 
a  feeing  of  dismay. 


NICK   OF    THE    WOODS. 

"Fear  not/'  said  the  guide,  to  whom  he  imparted  his 
doubts  of  the  safety  of  the  ford ;  "there  is  more  danger  in 
one  single  skulking  Shawnee  than  ten  thousand  such  sput- 
tering brooks.  Verily,  the  ford  is  good  enough,  though 
deep  and  rough ;  and  if  the  water  should  soil  the  young  wo- 
men's garments  a  little,  thee  should  remember  it  will  not 
make  so  ugly  a  stain  as  the  blood-mark  of  a  scalping 
savage/' 

"Lead  on,"  said  Pardon  Dodge,  with  unexpected  spirit; 
"I  am  not  of  them  'ere  fellers  as  fears  a  big  river;  and  my 
hoss  is  a  dreadful  fine  swimmer." 

"In  that  case,"  said  Nathan,  "if  thee  consents  to  the 
same,  I  will  get  up  behind  thee,  and  so  pass  over  dry-shod ; 
for  the  feel  of  wet  leather  breeches  is  quite  uncomfort- 
able." 

This  proposal  being  reasonable  enough,  was  readily  ac- 
ceded to,  and  Nathan  was  in  the  act  of  climbing  to  the 
crupper  of  Dodge's  horse,  when  little  Peter  began  to  mani- 
fest a  prudent  desire  to  pass  the  ford  dry-shod  also,  by 
pawing  at  his  master's  heels,  and  beseeching  his  notice  with 
sundry  low  but  expressive  whinings.  Such,  at  least,  was 
the  interpretation  which  Eoland,  who  perceived  the  animal's 
motions,  was  inclined  to  put  upon  them.  He  was,  there- 
fore, not  a  little  surprised  when  Nathan,  starting  from 
the  stirrup  into  which  he  had  climbed,  leaped  again  to  the 
ground,  staring  around  him  from  right  to  left  with  every 
appearance  of  alarm. 

"Right,  Peter !"  he  at  last  muttered,  fixing  his  eye  upon 
the  further  bank  of  the  river,  a  dark  mass  of  hill  and  forest 
that  rose  in  dim  relief  again  the  clouded  sky,  overshadow- 
ing the  whole  stream,  which  lay  like  a  pitchy  abyss  betwixt 
it  and  the  travellers, — "right,  Peter!  thee  eyes  is  as  good 
as  thee  nose — thee  is  determined  the  poor  women  shall  not 
be  murdered !" 

"What  is  it  you  see?"  demanded  Forrester,  "and  why 
do  you  talk  of  murdering?" 

"Speak  low,  and  look  across  the  river/'  whispered  the 


128  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

guide,  in  reply ;  "does  thee  see  the  light  glimmering  among 
the  rocks  by  the  road  side  ?" 

"I  see  neither  rocks  nor  road, — all  is  to  my  eyes  confused 
blackness;  and  as  for  a  light,  I  see  nothing — Stay!  No; 
'tis  the  gleam  of  a  fire-fly." 

"The  gleam  of  a  fire-fly!"  murmured  Nathan,  with 
tones  that  seemed  to  mingle  wonder  and  derision  with  feel- 
ings of  a  much  more  serious  character;  "it  is  such  a  fire- 
fly as  might  burn  a  house,  or  roast  a  living  captive  at  the 
stake ! — It  is  a  brand  in  the  hands  of  a  'camping  Shawnee  ! 
Look,  friend,  he  is  blowing  it  into  a  flame;  and  presently 
thee  will  see  the  whole  bank  around  it  in  a  glow." 

It  was  even  as  Nathan  said.  Almost  while  he  was  yet 
speaking,  the  light,  which  all  now  clearly  beheld,  at  first  a 
point  as  small  and  faint  as  the  spark  of  a  lampyris,  and 
then  a  star  scarce  bigger  or  brighter  than  the  torch  of  a 
jack-o'-lantern,  suddenly  grew  in  magnitude,  projecting  a 
long  and  lance-like,  though  broken  reflection  over  the 
wheeling  current,  and  then  as  suddenly  shot  into  a  bright 
and  ruddy  blaze,  illuminating  hill  and  river,  and  even  the 
anxious  countenances  of  the  travellers.  At  the  same  time 
a  dark  figure,  as  of  a  man  engaged  feeding  the  flame  with 
fresh  fuel,  was  plainly  seen  twice  or  thrice  to  pass  before 
it.  How  many  others,  his  comrades,  might  be  watching  its 
increasing  blaze  or  preparing  for  their  wild  slumbers 
among  the  rocks  and  bushes  where  it  was  kindled,  it  was 
impossible  to  divine. 

The  sight  of  the  fire  itself  in  such  a  solitary  spot,  and 
under  such  circumstances,  even  if  no  attendant  had  been 
seen  by  it,  would  have  been  enough  to  alarm  the  travellers, 
and  compel  the  conviction  that  their  enemies  had  not  for- 
gotten to  station  a  force  at  this  neglected  ford,  as  well  as 
at  the  other  more  frequented  one  above,  and  thus  to  de- 
prive them  of  the  last  hope  of  escape. 

This  unexpected  incident,  the  climax  of  a  long  series  of 
disappointments,  all  of  a  character  so  painful  and  exciting, 
drove  the  young  soldier  again  to  despair ;  which,  feeling  the 
tantalizing  sense  that  he  was  now  within  but  a  few  miles 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  129 

of  his  companions  in  exile,  and  separated  from  them  only 
by  the  single  obstruction  before  him,  exasperated  into  a 
species  of  fury  bordering  almost  upon  frensy. 

"There  is  but  one  way  of  escape,"  he  exclaimed,  without 
venturing  even  a  look  towards  his  kinswoman,  or  seeking 
by  idle  words  to  conceal  the  danger  of  their  situation ;  "we 
must  pass  the  river.  The  roar  of  the  water  will  drown  the 
noise  of  our  footsteps ;  we  can  cross  unheard  and  unlocked 
for ;  and  then  if  there  be  no  way  of  avoiding  them,  we  can 
pour  a  volley  among  the  rascals  at  their  fire,  and  take  ad- 
vantage of  their  confusion  to  gallop  by.  Look  to  the  wo- 
men, Nathan  Slaughter ;  and  you,  Pardon  Dodge  and  Em- 
peror, follow  me,  and  do  as  you  see  me  do." 

"Truly,"  said  Wandering  Nathan,  with  admirable  cool- 
ness and  complacency,  "thee  is  a  courageous  young  man, 
and  a  young  man  of  sense  and  spirit, — that  is  to  say,  after 
thee  own  sense  of  matters  and  things ;  and  truly,  if  it  were 
not  for  the  poor  women,  and  for  the  blazing  fire,  thee  might 
greatly  confound  and  harmfully  vanquish  the  evil  creatures, 
there  placed  so  unluckily  on  the  bank,  in  the  way  and  man- 
ner which  thee  thinks  of.  But,  friend,  thee  plan  will  not 
do ;  thee  might  pass  unheard  indeed,  but  not  unseen.  Does 
thee  not  see  how  brightly  the  fire  blazes  on  the  water? 
Truly,  we  should  all  be  seen  and  fired  at  before  we  reached 
the  middle  of  the  stream;  and  truly,  I  should  not  be  sur- 
prised if  the  gleam  of  the  fire  on  the  pale  faces  of  th-1 
poor  women  should  bring  a  shot  upon  us  where  we  stand ; 
and,  therefore,  friend,  the  sooner  we  get  us  out  of  the  way, 
the  better." 

"And  where  shall  we  betake  us  ?"  demanded  Roland,  the 
sternness  of  whose  accents  but  ill  disguised  the  gloom  and 
hopelessness  of  his  feelings. 

"To  a  place  of  safety  and  of  rest,"  replied  the  guide, 
"and  to  one  that  is  nigh  at  hand ;  where  we  may  lodge  us, 
with  little  fear  of  Injuns,  until  such  time  as  the  waters 
shall  abate  a  little,  or  the  stars  give  us  light  to  cross  them 
at  a  place  where  are  no  evil  Shawnees  to  oppose  us.  And 
then,  friend,  as  to  slipping  by  these  foolish  creatures  who 


130  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

make  such  bright  fires  on  the  public  highway,  truly,  with 
little  Peter's  assistance,  we  can  do  it  with  great  ease." 

"Let  us  not  delay/'  said  Koland;  and  added,  sullenly, 
"though  where  a  place  of  rest  and  safety  can  be  found  in 
these  detestable  woods,  I  can  no  longer  imagine." 

"It  is  a  place  of  rest,  at  least,  for  the  dead,"  said  Nathan, 
in  a  low  voice,  at  the  same  time  leading  the  party  back  again  «*• 
up  the  bank,  and  taking  care  to  shelter  them,  as  he  as- 
cended, as  much  as  possible  from  the  light  of  the  fire, 
which  was  now  blazing  with  great  brilliancy;  "nine  hu- 
man corses — father  and  mother,  grandam  and  children — 
sleep  under  the  threshold  at  the  door;  and  there  are  not 
many,  white  men  or  Injuns,  that  will,  of  their  free  will, 
step  over  the  bosoms  of  the  poor  murdered  creatures  after 
nightfall ;  and,  the  more  especially,  because  there  are  them 
that  believe  they  rise  at  midnight,  and  roam  round  the 
house  and  the  clearings,  mourning.  Yet  it  is  a  good  hid- 
ing place  for  them  that  are  in  trouble;  and  many  a  night 
have  little  Peter  and  I  sheltered  us  beneath  the  ruined  roof, 
with  little  fear  of  either  ghosts  or  Injuns;  though,  truly, 
we  have  sometimes  heard  strange  and  mournful  noises 
among  the  trees  around  us.  It  is  but  a  poor  place  and  a 
sad  one ;  but  it  will  afford  thee  weary  women  a  safe  resting- 
place  till  such  time  as  we  can  cross  the  river."  . 

These  words  of  Nathan  brought  to  Roland's  recollection 
the  story  of  the  Ashburns,  whom  Bruce  had  alluded  to,  as 
having  been  all  destroyed  at  their  station  in  a  single  night 
by  the  Indians,  and  whose  tragical  fate,  perhaps,  more  than 
any  other  circumstance,  had  diverted  the  course  of  travel 
from  the  ford,  near  to  which  they  had  seated  themselves,  to 
the  upper,  and,  originally,  less-frequented  one. 

It  was  not  without  reluctance  that  Koland  prepared  to 
lead  his  little  party  to  this  scene  of  butchery  and  sorrow; 
for,  though  little  inclined  himself  to  superstitious  feelings 
of  any  kind,  he  could  easily  imagine  what  would  be  the 
effect  of  such  a  scene,  with  its  gloomy  and  blood-stained 
associations,  on  the  harassed  mind  of  his  cousin.  But  suf- 
fering and  terror,  even  on  the  part  of  Edith,  were  not  to 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

be  thought  of  where  they  could  purchase  escape  from  evils 
far  more  real  and  appalling;  and  he  therefore  avoided  all 
remonstrance  and  opposition,  and  even  sought  to  hasten 
the  steps  of  his  conductor  towards  the  ruined  and  solitary 
pile. 

The  bank  was  soon  reascended;  and  the  party,  stealing 
along  in  silence,  presently  took  their  last  view  of  the  ford, 
and  the  yet  blazing  fire  that  had  warned  them  so  oppor- 
tunely from  its  dangerous  vicinity.  In  another  moment 
they  had  crept  a  second  time  into  the  forest,  though  in  the 
opposite  quarter  from  that  whence  they  had  come ;  making 
their  way  through  what  had  once  been  a  broad  path,  evi- 
dently cut  by  the  hands  of  man,  through  a  thicket  of  cane- 
brake,  though  long  disused,  and  now  almost  choked  by 
brambles  and  shrubs;  and,  by  and  by,  having  followed  it 
for  somewhat  less  than  half  a  mile,  they  found  themselves 
on  a  kind  of  clearing,  which,  it  was  equally  manifest,  had 
been  once  a  cultivated  field  of  several  acres  in  extent. 

Throughout  the  whole  of  this  space,  the  trunks  of  the 
old  forest-trees,  dimly  seen  in  the  light  of  a  clouded  sky, 
were  yet  standing,  but  entirely  leafless  and  dead,  and  pre- 
senting such  an  aspect  of  desolation  as  is  painful  to  the 
mind,  even  when  sunshine,  and  the  flourishing  maize  at 
their  roots,  invest  them  with  a  milder  and  more  cheerful 
character.  Such  prospects  are  common  enough  in  all  new 
American  clearings,  where  the  husbandman  is  content  to 
deprive  the  trees  of  life  by  girdling,  and  then  leave  them 
to  the  assaults  of  the  elements  and  the  natural  course  of 
decay ;  and  where  a  thousand  trunks  of  the  gigantic  growth 
of  the  West  are  thus  seen  rising  together  in  the  air,  naked 
and  hoary  with  age,  they  impress  the  imagination  with  such 
gloom  as  is  engendered  by  the  sight  of  ruined  colonnades. 

Such  was  the  case  with  the  present  prospect;  years  had 
passed  since  the  axe  had  sapped  the  strength  of  the  mighty 
oaks  and  beeches ;  bough  after  bough,  and  limb  after  limb, 
had  fallen  into  the  earth,  with  here  and 'there  some  huge 
trunk  itself,  overthrown  by  the  blast,  and  now  rotting 
among  weeds  on  the  soil  which  it  cumbered. 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

At  the  present  hour,  the  spectacle  was  peculiarly  mourn- 
ful and  dreary.  The  deep  solitude  of  the  spot — the  hour 
itself — the  gloomy  aspect  of  the  sky  veiled  in  clouds — the 
occasional  rush  of  the  wind  sweeping  like  a  tempest  through 
the  woods,  to  be  succeeded  by  a  dead  and  dismal  calm — 
the  roll  of  distant  thunder  reverberating  among  the  hills; 
but,  more  than  all,  the  remembrance  of  the  tragical  event 
that  had  consigned  the  ill-fated  settlement  to  neglect  and 
desolation,  and  gave  the  deepest  character  of  gloom  to  the 
scene. 

As  the  travellers  entered  upon  the  clearing,  there  oc- 
curred one  of  those  casualties  which  so  often  increase  the 
awe  of  the  looker-on,  in  such  places.  In  one  of  the  deepest 
lulls  and  hushes  of  the  wind,  when  there  was  no  apparent 
cause  in  operation  to  produce  such  an  effect,  a  tall  and  ma- 
jestic trunk  was  seen  to  decline  from  the  perpendicular, 
topple  slowly  through  the  air,  and  then  fall  to  the  earth 
with  a  crash  like  the  shock  of  an  earthquake. 

The  poet  and  the  moralizing  philosopher  may  find  food 
for  contemplation  in  such  a  scene  and  such  a  catastrophe. 
He  may  see  in  the  lofty  and  decaying  trunks  the  hoary 
relics  and  representatives  of  a  generation  of  better  and 
greater  spirits  than  those  who  lead  the  destinies  of  his  own 
— spirits,  left  not  more  as  monuments  of  the  past  than  as 
models  for  the  imitation  of  the  present;  he  may  contrast 
their  majesty  serenity  and  rest,  their  silence  and  immov- 
ableness,  with  the  turmoil  of  the  greener  growth  around, 
the  uproar  and  collision  produced  by  every  gust,  and  trace 
the  resemblance  to  the  scene  where  the  storms  of  party, 
rising  among  the  sons,  hurtle  so  indecently  around  the  gray 
fathers  of  a  republic,  whose  presence  should  stay  them ;  and, 
finally,  he  may  behold  in  the  trunks,  as  they  yield  at  last 
to  decay,  and  sink  one  \)j  one  to  the  earth,  the  fall  of  each 
aged  parent  of  his  country — a  fall,  indeed,  as  of  an  oak  of 
a  thousand  generations,  shocking  the  earth  around,  and 
producing,  for  a  moment,  wonder,  awe,  grief,  and  then  a 
long  forgetfulness. 

But  men  in  the  situation  of  the  travellers  have  neither 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  133 

time  nor  inclination  for  moralizing.  The  fall  of  the  tree 
only  served  to  alarm  the  weaker  members  of  the  party,  to 
some  of  whom,  perhaps,  it  appeared  as  an  inauspicious 
omen.  Apparently,  however,  it  awoke  certain  mournful 
recollections  in  the  brains  of  both  little  Peter  and  his  mas- 
ter, the  former  of  whom,  as  he  passed  it  by,  began  to 
snuffle  and  whine  in  a  low  and  peculiar  manner;  while 
Nathan  immediately  responded,  as  if  in  reply  to  his  coun- 
sellor's address,  "Ay,  truly,  Peter ! — thee  has  a  good  mem- 
ory of  the  matter;  though  five  long  years  is  a  marvellous 
time  for  thee  little  noddle  to  hold  things.  It  was  under 
this  very  tree  they  murdered  the  poor  old  granny,  and 
brained  the  innocent  helpless  babe.  Of  a  truth,  it  was  a 
sight  that  made  my  heart  sick  within  me." 

"What!"  asked  Koland,  who  followed  close  at  his  heels 
and  overheard  the  half -soliloquized  expressions ;  "were  yon 
present  at  the  massacre  ?" 

"Alas,  friend,"  replied  Nathan,  "it  was  neither  the  first 
nor  last  massacre  that  I  have  seen  with  these  eyes.  I 
dwelt,  in  them  days,  in  a  cabin  a  little  distance  down  the 
river;  and  these  poor  people,  the  Ashb^rns,  were  my  near 
neighbors ;  though,  truly,  they  were  not  to  me  as  neighbors 
should  be,  but  held  me  in  disfavor,  because  of  my  faith,  and 
ever  repelled  me  from  their  doors  with  scorn  and  ill-will. 
Yet  was  I  sorry  for  them,  because  of  the  little  children  they 
had  in  the  house,  the  same  being  afar  from  succour;  and 
when  I  found  the  tracks  of  the  Injun  party  in  the  wood, 
as  it  was  often  my  fate  to  do,  while  rambling  in  search  of 
food,  and  saw  that  they  were  bending  their  way  towards  my 
own  little  wigwam,  I  said  to  myself,  'whilst  they  are  burn- 
ing the  same,  I  will  get  me  to  friend  Ashburn,  that  he  may 
be  warned  and  escape  to  friend  Bruce's  station  in  time  with 
his  people  and  cattle.' 

"But,  verily,  they  held  my  story  light,  and  laughed  at 
and  derided  me ;  for  in  them  days  the  people  hardened  their 
hearts  and  closed  their  ears  against  me,  because  I  held  it 
not  according  to  conscience  to  kill  Injuns  as  they  did,  and 
so  refused.  And  so,  f riend^  they  drove  me  from  their  doors ; 


134  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

seeing  which,  and  perceiving  the  poor  creatures  were  in  a 
manner  besotted  and  bent  upon  their  own  destruction,  and 
the  night  coming  on  fast,  I  turned  my  steps  and  ran  with 
what  speed  I  could  to  friend  Bruce's,  telling  him  the  whole 
story,  and  advising  that  he  should  despatch  a  strong  body 
of  horsemen  to  the  place,  so  as  to  frighten  the  evil  crea- 
tures away;  for,  truly,  I  did  not  hold  it  right  that  there 
should  be  bloodshed. 

"But,  truly,  and  alas,  friend !  I  fared  no  better,  and  per- 
haps a  little  worse  at  the  station  than  I  had  fared  before  at 
Ashburn's;  wherefore,  being  left  in  despair,  I  said  to  my- 
self I  will  go  into  the  woods  and  hide  me  away,  not  return- 
ing to  the  river,  lest  I  should  be  compelled  to  look  upon 
the  shedding  of  the  blood  of  the  men  and  little  babes,  which 
I  had  no  power  to  prevent.  But  it  came  into  my  mind 
that  perhaps  the  Injuns,  not  finding  me  in  my  wigwam, 
might  lie  in  wait  round  about  it  expecting  my  return,  and 
so  delaying  the  attack  upon  friend  Ashburn's  house,  where- 
by I  might  have  time  to  reach  him  and  warn  him  of  his 
danger  again;  and  this  idea  prevailed  with  me,  so  that  I 
rose  me  up  again,  and  with  little  Peter  at  my  side,  I  ran 
back  again,  until  I  had  reached  this  very  field ;  when  Peter 
gave  me  to  know  the  Injuns  were  hard  by.  Thee  don't 
know  little  Peter,  friend;  truly  he  has  the  strongest  nose 
for  an  Injun  thee  ever  saw.  Does  thee  not  hear  how  he 
whines  and  snuffs  along  the  grass?  Now,  friend,  were  it 
not  that  this  is  a  bloody  spot  that  Peter  remembers  well, 
because  of  the  wicked  deeds  he  saw  performed,  I  would 
know  by  his  whining,  as  truly  as  if  he  were  to  open  his 
mouth  and  say  as  much  in  words,  that  there  were  evil  In- 
juns nigh  at  hand,  and  that  it  behoved  me  to  be  up  and 
a-doing. 

"Well,  friend,  as  I  was  saying — it  was  with  such  words 
as  these  that  little  Peter  told  me  that  mischief  was  nigh ; 
and  truly,  I  had  scarce  time  to  hide  me  in  the  corn,  which 
was  then  in  the  ear,  before  I  heard  the  direful  yells  with 
which  the  blood-thirsty  creatures,  who  were  then  round 
about  the  house,  woke  up  its  frighted  inmates.  Verily, 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  135 

friend,  I  will  not  shock  thee  by  telling  thee  what  I  heard 
and  saw.  There  was  a  fate  on  the  family,  and  even  on  the 
animals  that  looked  to  it  for  protection.  Neither  horse 
nor  cow  gave  them  the  alarm ;  and  even  the  house-dog  slept 
so  soundly,  that  the  enemies  dragged  loose  brush  into  the 
porch  and  fired  it  before  any  one  but  themselves  dreamed 
of  danger.  It  was  when  the  flames  burst  out  that  the  war- 
whoop  was  sounded;  and  when  the  eyes  of  the  sleepers 
opened,  it  was  only  to  see  themselves  surrounded  both  by 
flames  and  raging  Shawnees. 

"Then,  friend/'  continued  Nathan,  speaking  with  a  fal- 
tering and  low  voice,  graduated  for  the  ears  of  Koland,  for 
whom  alone  the  story  was  intended,  though  others  caught 
here  and  there  some  of  its  dismal  revealments,  "then  thee 
may  think,  there  was  rushing  out  of  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren, with  the  crackling  of  rifles,  the  crashing  of  hatchets, 
the  plunge  of  knives,  with  yells  and  shrieks  such  as  would 
turn  thee  spirit  into  ice  and  water  to  hear.  It  was  a  fear- 
ful massacre;  but,  friend,  fearful  as  it  was,  these  eyes  of 
mine  had  looked  on  one  more  dreadful  before;  thee  would 
not  believe  it,  friend,  but  thee  knows  not  what  them  see, 
who  have  spent  their  lives  on  the  Injun  border ! 

"Well,  friend,"  continued  the  narrator,  after  this  brief 
digression,  "while  they  were  murdering  the  stronger,  I  saw 
the  weakest  of  all — the  old  grandam,  with  the  youngest 
babe  in  her  arms,  come  flying  into  the  corn;  and  she  had 
reached  this  very  tree  that  has  fallen  but  now,  as  if  to  re- 
mind me  of  the  story,  when  the  pursuer,  for  it  was  but  a 
single  man  they  sent  in  chase  of  the  poor  feeble  old  wo- 
man, caught  up  with  her,  and  struck  her  down  with  his 
tomahawk.  Then,  friend — for,  truly,  I  saw  it  all  in  the 
light  of  the  fire,  being  scarce  two  rods  off — he  snatched  the 
poor  babe  from  the  dying  woman's  arms,  and  struck  it  with 
the  same  bloody  hatchet " 

"And  you!"  exclaimed  Koland,  leaning  from  his  horse 
and  clutching  the  speaker  by  the  collar,  for  he  was  seized 
with  ungovernable  indignation,  or  rather  fury,  at  what  he 
esteemed  the  cold-blooded  cowardice  of  Nathan,  'T<?w/'J 


136  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

he  cried,  grasping  him  as  if  he  would  have  torn  him  to 
pieces,  "You,  wretch!  stood  by  and  saw  the  child  mur- 
dered!" 

"Friend,"  said  Nathan,  with  some  surprise  at  the  unex- 
pected assault,  but  still  with  great  submissiveness,  "thee  is 
as  unjust  to  me  as  others.  Had  I  been  as  free  to  shed  blood 
as  thee  theeself,  yet  could  I  not  have  saved  the  babe  in  that 
way,  seeing  that  my  gun  was  taken  from  me,  and  I  was 
unarmed.  Thee  forgets — or  rather  I  forgot  to  inform  thee 
— how,  when  I  told  friend  Bruce  my  story,  he  took  my  gun 
from  me,  saying  that  'as  I  was  not  man  enough  to  use  it,  I 
should  not  be  allowed  to  carry  it/  and  so  turned  me  out 
naked  from  the  fort.  Truly,  it  was  an  ill  thing  of  him 
to  take  from  me  that  which  gave  me  my  meat;  and  truly 
too,  it  was  doubly  ill  of  him  as  it  concerned  the  child;  for 
I  tell  thee,  friend,  when  I  stood  in  the  corn  and  saw  the 
great  brutal  Injun  raise  the  hatchet  to  strike  the  little 
child,  had  there  been  a  gun  in  my  hand,  I  should — I  can't 
tell  thee,  friend,  what  I  might  have  done;  but,  truly,  I 
should  not  have  permitted  the  evil  creature  to  do  the  bloody 
deed !" 

"I  thought  so,  by  heaven !"  said  Roland,  who  had  re- 
laxed his  grasp  the  moment  Nathan  mentioned  the  seizure 
of  the  gun,  which  story  was  corroborated  by  the  account 
Bruce  had  himself  given  of  that  stretch  of  authority — "I 
thought  so;  no  human  creature,  not  an  Indian,  unless  the 
veriest  dastard  and  dog  that  ever  lived,  could  have  had 
arms  in  his  hand,  and,  on  such  an  occasion,  failed  to  use 
them!  But  you  had  humanity — you  did  something?" 

"Friend,"  said  Nathan,  meekly,  "I  did  what  I  could — 
but,  truly,  what  could  I?  Nevertheless,  friend,  I  did,  be- 
ing set  beside  myself  by  the  sight,  snatch  the  little  babe  out 
of  the  man's  hands,  and  fly  to  the  woods,  hoping,  though 
it  was  sore  wounded,  that  it  might  yet  live.  But,  alas !  be- 
fore I  had  run  a  mile,  it  died  in  my  arms,  and  I  was  covered 
from  head  to  foot  with  its  blood.  It  was  a  sore  sight  for 
friend  Bruce,  whom  I  found  with  his  people  galloping  to 
the  ford,  to  see  what  there  might  be  in  my  story;  for,  it 


.NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  137 

seems,  as  he  told  me  himself,  that,  after  he  liad  driven  me 
away,  he  could  not  sleep  for  thinking  that  perhaps  I  had 
told  the  truth.  And  truth  enough,  he  soon  found,  I  had 
spoken ;  for,  galloping  immediately  to  Ashburn's  house,  he 
found  nothing  there  but  the  corses  of  the  people,  and  the 
house  partly  consumed — for,  being  of  green  timber,  it  could 
not  all  burn.  There  was  not  one  of  the  poor  family  that 
escaped." 

"But  they  were  avenged?"  muttered  the  soldier. 

"If  thee  calls  killing  the  killers  avenging/'  replied  Na- 
than, "the  poor  deceased  people  had  vengeance  enough. 
Of  the  fourteen  murderers,  for  that  was  the  number,  eleven 
were  killed  before  day-dawn,  the  pursuers  having  dis- 
covered where  they  had  built  their  fire,  and  so  taken  them 
by  surprise;  and  of  the  three  that  escaped,  it  was  after- 
wards said,  by  returning  captives,  that  only  one  made  his 
way  home,  the  other  two  having  perished  in  the  woods  in 
some  way  unknown.  But  truly,"  continued  Nathan,  sud- 
denly diverting  his  attention  from  the  tragic  theme  to  the 
motions  of  his  dog,  "little  Peter  is  more  disturbed  than  is 
his  wont.  Truly,  he  has  never  had  a  liking  to  the  spot; 
I  have  heard  them  that  said  a  dog  could  scent  the  presence 
of  spirits." 

"To  my  mind,"  said  Roland,  who  had  not  forgotten 
Nathan's  eulogium  on  the  excellence  of  the  animal's  nose 
for  scenting  Indians,  and  was  somewhat  alarmed  at  what 
appeared  to  him  the  evident  uneasiness  of  little  Peter,  "he 
is  more  like  to  wind  another  party  of  cursed  Shawnees, 
than  any  harmless  disembodied  spirits." 

"Friend,"  said  Nathan,  "it  may  be  that  Injuns  have 
trodden  upon  this  field  this  day,  seeing  that  the  wood  is  full 
of  them;  and  it  is  like  enough  that  those  very  evil  crea- 
tures at  the  ford  hard  by  have  stolen  hither,  before  taking 
their  post,  to  glut  their  eyes  with  the  sight  of  the  ruins, 
where  the  blood  of  nine  poor  white  persons  was  shed  by  their 
brothers  in  a  single  night ;  though,  truly,  in  that  case,  they 
must  have  also  thought  of  the  thirteen  murderers  that 
bled  for  the  victims ;  which  would  prove  somewhat  a  draw- 


138  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

back  to  their  satisfaction.  No,  friend;  Peter  has  his  likes 
and  his  dislikes,  like  a  human  being;  and  this  is  a  spot  he 
ever  approaches  with  abhorrence, — as,  truly,  I  do  myself, 
never  coming  hither,  unless  when  driven,  as  now,  by  neces- 
sity. But,  friend,  if  thee  is  in  fear,  thee  shall  be  satisfied 
there  is  no  danger  before  thee ;  it  shall  never  be  said  that  I 
undertook  to  lead  thee  poor  women  out  of  mischief,  only 
to  plunge  them  into  peril.  I  will  go  before  thee  to  the 
ruin,  which  thee  sees  there  by  the  hollow,  and  reconnoitre." 

"It  needs  not,"  said  Koland,  who  now  seeing  the  cabin 
of  which  they  were  in  search  close  at  hand,  and  perceiving 
that  Peter's  uneasiness  had  subsided,  dismissed  his  own  as 
being  groundless.  But,  notwithstanding,  he  thought 
proper,  as  Nathan  advanced,  to  ride  forward  himself,  and 
inspect  the  condition  of  the  building,  in  which  he  was 
about  to  commit  the  safety  of  the  being  he  held  most  dear, 
and  on  whose  account,  only,  he  felt  the  thousand  anxieties 
and  terrors  he  never  could  have  otherwise  experienced. 

The  building  was  a  low  cabin  of  logs,  standing,  as  it 
seemed,  on  the  verge  of  an  abyss,  in  which  the  river  could 
be  heard  dashing  tumultuously,  as  if  among  rocks  and 
other  obstructions.  It  was  one  of  those  double  cabins  so 
frequently  found  in  the  West;  that  is  to  say,  it  consisted 
of  two  separate  cots,  or  wings,  standing  a  little  distance 
apart,  but  united  by  a  common  roof;  which  thus  afforded 
shelter  to  the  open  hall  or  passage  between  them ;  while  the 
roof  being  continued  also  from  the  eaves,  both  before  and 
behind,  in  pent-house  fashion,  it  allowed  space  for  wide 
porches,  in  which,  and  in  the  open  passage,  the  summer 
traveller,  resting  in  such  a  cabin,  will  always  find  the  most 
agreeable  quarters. 

How  little  soever  of  common  wisdom  and  discretion  the 
fate  of  the  builders  might  have  shown  them  to  possess, 
they  had  not  forgotten  to  provide  their  solitary  dwelling 
with  such  defences  as  were  common  to  all  others  in  the 
Jand  at  that  period.  A  line  of  palisades,  carelessly  and 
feebly  constructed,  indeed,  but  perhaps  sufficient  for  the 
purpose  intended,  enclosed  the  ground  on  which  the  cabin 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  139 

stood;  and  this  being  placed  directly  in  the  centre,  and 
joining  it  at  the  sides,  thus  divided  it  into  two  little  yards, 
one  in  front,  the  other  in  the  rear,  in  which  was  space  suffi- 
cient for  horses  and  cattle,  as  well  as  for  the  garrison, 
when  called  to  repel  assailants.  The  enclosure  behind  ex- 
tended to  the  verge  of  the  river-bank,  which,  falling  down 
a  sheer  precipice  of  forty  or  fifty  feet,  required  no  defence 
of  stakes,  and  seemed  never  to  have  been  provided  with 
them;  while  that  in  front  circumscribed  a  portion  of  a 
cleared  field,  entirely  destitute  of  trees,  and  almost  of 
bushes. 

Such  had  been  the  original  plan  and  condition  of  a 
fortified  private-dwelling,  a  favorable  specimen,  perhaps, 
of  the  family-forts  of  the  day,  and  which,  manned  by  five 
or  six  active  and  courageous  defenders,  might  have  bidden 
defiance  to  thrice  the  number  of  barbarians  that  had  actu- 
ally succeeded  in  storming  it.  Its  present  appearance  was 
ruinous  and  melancholy  in  the  extreme.  The  stockade  was 
in  great  part  destroyed,  especially  in  front,  where  the 
stakes  seemed  to  have  been  rooted  up  by  the  winds,  or  to 
have  fallen  from  sheer  decay;  and  the  right  wing  or  cot, 
that  had  suffered  most  from  the  flames,  lay  a  blackened 
and  mouldering  pile  of  logs,  confusedly  heaped  on  its 
floor,  or  on  the  earth  beneath.  The  only  part  of  the 
building  yet  standing  was  the  cot  on  the  left  hand,  which 
consisted  of  but  a  single  room,  and  that,  as  Koland  per- 
ceived at  a  glance,  almost  roofless  and  ready  to  fall. 

Nothing  could  be  more  truly  cheerless  and  forbidding 
than  the  appearance  of  the  ruined  pile ;  and  the  hoarse  and 
dismal  rush  of  the  rivers  below,  heard  the  more  readily  by 
reason  of  a  deep,  rocky  fissure,  or  ravine,  running  from  the 
rear  yard  to  the  water's  edge,  through  which  the  sound 
ascended  in  hollow  echoes,  adding  double  horror  to  its  ap- 
pearance. It  was,  moreover,  obviously  insecure  and  un- 
tenable against  any  resolute  enemy,  to  whom  the  ruins  of 
the  fallen  wing  and  stockade,  and  the  rugged  depths  of  the 
ravine,  offered  much  more  effectual  shelter,  as  well  as  the 
best  place  of  annoyance. 


140  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

The  repugnance,  however,  that  Roland  felt  to  occupy  it 
even  for  a  few  hours,  was  combated  by  Nathan,  who  repre- 
sented that  the  ford  at  which  he  designed  crossing  the  river, 
several  miles  farther  down,  could  not  be  safely  attempted 
until  the  rise  of  the  waning  moon,  or  until  the  clouds  should 
disperse,  affording  them  the  benefit  of  the  dim  starlight; 
that  the  road  to  it  lay  through  swamps  and  hollows,  now 
submerged,  in  which  could  be  found  no  place  of  rest  for 
the  females,  exhausted  by  fatigue  and  mental  suffering; 
and  that  the  ruin  might  be  made  as  secure  as  the  station 
the  travellers  had  left;  "for  truly,"  said  he,  "it  is  not  ac- 
cording to  my  ways  or  conscience  to  leave  any  thing  to 
chance  or  good  luck  when  there  is  Injun  scent  in  the  forest, 
though  it  be  in  the  forest  ten  miles  off.  Truly,  friend,  I 
design,  when  thee  poor  tired  women  is  sleeping,  to  keep 
watch  round  the  ruin,  with  Peter  to  help  me;  and  if  thee- 
self  and  thee  two  male  persons  have  strength  to  do  the 
same,  it  will  be  all  the  better  for  the  same." 

"It  shall  be  done,"  said  Eoland,  as  much  pleased  by  the 
suggestion,  as  he  was  by  the  humane  spirit  that  prompted 
it :  "my  two  soldiers  can  watch  if  they  cannot  fight,  and  I 
shall  take  care  they  watch  well." 

Thus  composing  the  difficulty,  preparations  were  imme- 
diately made  to  occupy  the  ruin,  into  which  Eoland,  having 
previously  entered  with  Emperor,  and  struck  a  light,  intro- 
duced his  weary  kinswoman  with  her  companion  Telie; 
while  Nathan  and  Pardon  Dodge  led  the  horses  into  the 
ravine,  where  they  could  be  easily  confined,  and  allowed  to 
browse  and  drink  at  will,  being  at  the  same  time  beyond 
the  reach  of  observation  from  any  foe  that  might  be  yet 
prowling  through  the  forest. 


NICK    OF    THE   WOODS. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

One's  hip  he  slash'd,  and  split  the  other's  shoulder, 
And  drove  them  with  their  brutal  yells  to  seek 

If  there  might  be  chirurgeons  who  could  solder 
The  wounds  they  richly  merited,  and  shriek 

Their   baffled   rage  and  pain. 

— Don   Juan. 

THE  light  struck  by  the  negro  was  soon  succeeded  by  a 
fire,  for  which  ample  materials  lay  ready  at  hand  among 
the  ruins;  and  as  it  blazed  up  from  the  broken  and  long 
deserted  hearth,  the  travellers  could  better  view  the  dismal 
aspect  of  the  cabin.  It  consisted,  as  has  been  mentioned, 
of  but  a  single  remaining  apartment,  with  walls  of  logs, 
from  whose  chinks  the  clay  with  which  they  had  been  origi- 
nally plastered  had  long  since  vanished,  with  here  and 
there  a  fragment  of  a  log  itself,  leaving  a  thousand  gaps  for 
the  admission  of  wind  and  rain.  The  ceiling  of  poles  (for 
it  had  once  possessed  a  kind  of  garret)  had  fallen  down 
under  the  weight  of  the  rotting  roof,  of  which  but  a  small 
portion  remained,  and  that  in  the  craziest  condition;  and 
the  floor  of  puncheons,  or  planks  of  split  logs,  was  in  a 
state  of  equal  dilapidation,  more  than  half  of  it  having 
rotted  away  and  mingled  with  the  earth  on  which  it  re- 
posed. 

Doors  and  windows  there  were  none ;  but  two  mouldering 
gaps  in  the  front  and  the  rear  walls,  and  another  of  greater 
magnitude  opening  from  the  side  into  what  had  once  been 
the  hall  or  passage  (though  now  a  platform  heaped  with 
fragments  of  charred  windows),  showed  where  the  narrow 
entrance  and  loop-hole  windows  had  once  existed.  The 
former  was  without  leaf  or  defence  of  any  kind,  unless 
such  might  have  been  found  in  three  or  four  logs  standing 
against  the  wall  hard  by,  whence  they  could  be  easily  re- 
moved and  piled  against  the  opening;  for  which  purpose 
Roland  did  not  doubt  they  had  been  used,  and  by  the 
houseless  Nathan  himself. 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

But  a  better  protection  was  offered  by  the  ruins  of  the 
other  apartment,  which  had  fallen  down  in  such  a  way  as 
almost  to  block  up  the  door,  leaving  a  passage  in  and  out 
only  towards  the  rear  of  the  building ;  and,  in  case  of  sud- 
den attack  and  seizure  of  this  sole  entrance,  there  were 
several  gaps  at  the  bottom  of  the  wall,  through  one  of 
which,  in  particular,  it  would  be  easy  enough  to  effect  a 
retreat.  At  this  place  the  floor  was  entirely  wanting,  and 
the  earth  below  washed  into  a  gully  communicating  with 
the  rocky  ravine,  of  which  it  might  be  considered  the  head. 

But  the  looks  of  the  soldier  did  not  dwell  long  upon  the 
dreary  spectacle  of  ruin;  they  were  soon  cast  upon  the 
countenance  of  Edith,  concealed  so  long  by  darkness.  It 
was  even  wanner  and  paler  than  he  feared  to  find  it,  and 
her  eye  shone  with  an  unnatural  lustre,  as  it  met  his  own. 
She  extended  her  hands,  and  placed  them  in  his,  gazed 
upon  him  piercingly,  but  without  speaking,  or  indeed  seem- 
ing able  to  utter  a  single  word. 

"Be  of  good  heart,"  he  said,  replying  to  the  look  of  in- 
quiry ;  "we  are  unfortunate,  Edith,  but  we  are  safe." 

"Thank  heaven!"  she  exclaimed,  but  more  wildly  than 
fervently;  "I  have  been  looking  every  moment  to  see  you 
shot  dead  at  my  feet!  Would  I  had  died,  Eoland,  my 
brother,  before  I  brought  you  to  this  fatal  land.  But  I 
distress  you !  Well,  I  will  not  be  frightened  more.  But 
is  not  this  an  adventure  for  a  woman  that  never  before 
looked  upon  a  cut  finger  without  fainting?  Truly,  Eo- 
land, ' truly/  as  friend  Nathan  says,  it  is  as  ridiculous  as 
frightful;  and  then  this  cabin,  where  they  killed  so  many 
poor  women  and  children, — is  it  not  a  ridiculous  lodging- 
place  for  Edith  Forrester?  a  canopy  of  clouds,  a  couch  of 
clay,  with  owls  and  snakes  for  my  bed-fellows — truly,  truly, 
truly,  it  is  very  ridiculous!" 

It  seemed,  for  a  moment,  as  if  the  maiden's  effort  to  ex- 
change her  melancholy  and  terror  for  a  more  joyous  feel- 
ing, would  have  resulted  in  producing  even  greater  agita- 
tion than  before;  but  the  soothing  words  of  Eoland,  and 
the  encouraging  countenance  maintained  by  Telie  Doe,  who 


NICK   OF   THE    WOODS.  143 

seemed  little  affected  by  their  forlorn  situation,  gradually 
tranquillized  her  mind,  and  enabled  her  the  better  to  pre- 
serve the  air  of  levity  and  mirthfulness,  which  she  so  vainly 
attempted  at  first  to  assume.  This  moment  of  calm  Bo- 
land  took  advantage  of  to  apprise  her  of  the  necessity  of 
recruiting  her  spirits  with  a  few  hours'  sleep;  for  which 
purpose  he  began  to  look  about  him  for  some  suitable  place 
in  which  to  strew  her  a  bed  of  fern  and  leaves. 

"Why,  here  is  one  strewn  for  me  already,"  she  cried, 
with  an  affected  laugh,  pointing  to  a  corner,  in  which  lay 
a  mass  of  leaves  so  green  and  fresh  that  they  looked  as  if 
plucked  but  a  day  or  two  before;  "truly,  Nathan  has  not 
invited  me  to  his  hiding-place  to  lodge  me  meanly  (heaven 
forgive  me  for  laughing  at  the  poor  man;  for  we  owe  him 
our  lives!) ;  nay,  nor  to  send  me  supperless  to  bed.  See  I" 
she  added,  pointing  to  a  small  brazen  kettle,  which  her 
quick  eye  detected  among  the  leaves,  and  which  was  soon 
followed  by  a  second  that  Emperor  stirred  up  from  its  con- 
cealment, and  both  of  them,  as  was  soon  perceived,  still  re- 
taining the  odor  of  a  recent  savory  stew.  "Look  well,  Em- 
peror— where  the  kitchen  is,  the  larder  cannot  be  far  dis- 
tant. I  warrant  me,  we  shall  find  that  Nathan  has  pro- 
vided us  a  good  supper." 

"Such,  perhaps,  as  a  woodman  only  can  eat/'  said  Eo- 
land,  who,  somewhat  surprised  at  the  superfluous  number 
of  Nathan's  valuables  (for  to  Nathan  he  doubted  not  they 
belonged),  had  begun  stirring  the  leaves,  and  succeeded  in 
raking  up  with  his  rifle,  which  he  had  not  laid  aside,  a  little 
earthen  pouch,  well  stored  with  parched  corn:  "A  strange 
fellow  this  Nathan,"  he  muttered;  "he  really  spoke  as  if 
he  had  not  visited  the  ruin  for  a  considerable  period; 
whereas  it  is  evident  he  must  have  slept  here  last  night. 
But  he  seems  to  affect  mystery  in  all  that  concerns  his  own 
private  movements — it  is  the  character  of  his  persuasion." 

While  Roland,  with  the  females,  was  thus  laying  hands 
and  speculating  upon  the  supposed  chattels  of  their  con- 
ductor, Nathan  himself  entered  the  apartment,  betraying 
some  degree  of  agitation  in  his  countenance,  whilst  the 


144  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

faithful  Peter,  who  followed  at  his  side,  manifested  equal 
uneasiness,  by  snuffing  the  air,  whining,  and  rubbing  him- 
self frequently  against  his  master's  legs. 

"Friends,"  he  cried  abruptly,  "Peter  talks  too  plainly  to 
be  mistaken ;  there  is  mischief  nigh  at  hand,  though  where 
or  how  it  can  be,  sinner  and  weak  foolish  man  that  I  am, 
I  know  not;  we  must  leave  warm  fires  and  soft  beds,  and 
take  refuge  again  in  the  woods." 

This  unexpected  announcement  again  banished  the  blood 
from  Edith's  cheeks.  She  had,  on  his  entrance,  caught  the . 
pouch  of  corn  from  Eoland's  hands,  intending  to  present 
it  to  the  guide,  with  some  such  light  expressions  as  should 
convince  her  kinsman  of  her  recovered  spirits;  but  the 
visage  and  the  words  of  Nathan  struck  her  dumb,  and  she 
stood  holding  it  in  her  hand,  without  speaking  a  word,  until 
it  caught  Nathan's  eye.  He  snatched  it  from  her  grasp, 
surveying  it  with  astonishment,  and  even  alarm,  and  only 
ceased  to  look  at  it  when  little  Peter,  who  had  run  into  the 
corner  and  among  the  bed  of  leaves,  uttered  a  whine  louder 
than  before.  The  pouch  dropped  from  Nathan's  hand  as 
his  eye  fell  upon  the  shining  kettles,  on  which  he  gazed  as 
if  petrified. 

"What,  in  heaven's  name,  is  the  matter  ?"  demanded  Ro- 
land, himself  taking  the  alarm ;  "are  you  frighted  at  your 
own  kettles?" 

"Mine !"  cried  Nathan,  clasping  his  hands,  and  looking 
terror  and  remorse  together — 'If  thee  will  kill  me,  friend, 
thee  will  scarce  do  amiss;  for,  miserable,  blind  sinner  that 
I  am,  I  have  led  thee  poor  luckless  women  into  the  very 
lion's  den!  into  the  hiding-place  and  headquarters  of  the 
very  cut-throats  that  is  seeking  to  destroy  thee!  Up  and 
'•  away — does  thee  not  hear  Peter  howling  at  the  door  ?  Hist ! 
Peter,  hist!  Truly  this  is  a  pretty  piece  of  business  for 
thee,  Nathan  Slaughter !  Does  thee  not  hear  them  close  at 
hand?" 

"I  hear  the  hooting  of  an  owl,  and  the  answer  of  his  fel- 
low," replied  Roland,  but  his  words  were  cut  short  by  a 
second  howl  from  Peter,  and  the  cry  of  his  master,  "Up, 


Snatching  Edith  up  as  if  she  had  been  a  feather,  Nathan  was 
brought  to  a  stand  as  his  eyes  fell  upon  a  naked  Indian  in  the 
doorway.  Page  145.  Nick  of  the  Woods 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  145 

if  thee  be  not  besotted;  drag  thee  women  by  the  hands  and 
follow  me." 

With  these  words,  Nathan  was  leaping  towards  the  door, 
when  a  cry  from  Eoland  arrested  him.  He  looked  round, 
and  perceived  Edith  had  fainted  in  the  soldier's  arms.  "I 
will  save  the  poor  thing  for  thee — help  thou  the  other/'  he 
cried,  and  snatching  her  up  as  if  she  had  been  but  a 
feather,  he  was  again  in  the  act  of  springing  to  the  door, 
when  brought  to  a  stand  by  a  far  more  exciting  impedi- 
ment. A  shriek  from  Telie  Doe,  uttered  in  sudden  terror, 
was  echoed  by  a  laugh,  strangely  wild,  harsh,  guttural,  and 
expressive  of  equal  triumph  and  derision,  coming  from  the 
door,  looking  to  which,  the  eyes  of  Nathan  and  the  soldier 
fell  upon  a  tall  and  naked  Indian,  shorn  and  painted,  who, 
rifle  in  hand,  the  grim  smile  yet  writhing  on  his  features, 
and  exclaiming  with  a  mockery  of  friendly  accost,  "Bo- 
zlwo*  brudders — Injun  good  friend!"  was  stepping  that 
moment  into  the  hovel ;  and  as  if  that  spectacle  and  those 
sounds  were  not  enough  to  chill  the  heart  of  the  spectators, 
there  were  seen  over  his  shoulders  the  gleaming  eyes,  and 
heard  behind  his  back  the  malign  laughter  of  three  or  four 
equally  wild  and  ferocious  companions. 

"To  the  door,  if  thee  is  a  man, — rush!"  cried  Nathan, 
with  a  voice  more  like  the  blast  of  a  bugle  than  the  tone 
of  a  frighted  man  of  peace,  and  casting  Edith  from  his 
arms,  he  set  the  example  of  attack  or  flight— Eoland 
scarcely  knew  which — by  leaping  against  the  breast  of  the 
daring  intruder.  Both  fell  together  across  the  threshold, 
and  Roland,  obeying  the  call  with  desperate  and  frantic 
ardor,  stumbled  over  their  bodies,  pitching  headlong  into 
the  passage,  whereby  he  escaped  the  certain  death  that 
otherwise  awaited  him,  three  several  rifle  shots  having  been 
that  instant  poured  upon  him  from  a  distance  of  scarce  as 
many  feet. 

*Bo-zhoo, — a  corruption  of  the  French  bon  jour,  a  word  of 
salutation  adopted  by  Western  Indians  from  the  Voyageurs  of 
Canada,  and  used  by  them  with  great  zeal  by  night  as  well  as 
by  day. 


146  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"Strike,  if  thee  conscience  permits  thee!"  he  heard  the 
voice  of  Nathan  cry  in  his  ears,  and  the  next  moment  a 
shot  from  the  interior  of  the  hovel,  heralded  by  a  quivering 
cry  from  the  faithful  Emperor — "Lorra-gor !  nebber  harm 
an  Injun  in  my  life  !"  struck  the  hatchet  from  the  shattered 
hand  of  a  foeman,  who  had  taken  advantage  of  his  down- 
fall to  aim  a  fatal  blow  at  him  while  rising.  A  yell  ofj 
pain  came  from  the  maimed  and  baffled  warrior,  who 
springing  over  the  blackened  ruins  before  the  door,  escaped 
the  stroke  of  the  clubbed  rifle  which  the  soldier  aimed  at 
him  in  return,  the  piece  having  been  discharged  by  the 
fall.  The  cry  of  the  flying  assailant  was  echoed  by  what 
seemed  in  Roland's  ears  the  yells  of  fifty  supporters,  two  of 
whom  he  saw  within  six  feet  of  him,  brandishing  their 
hatchets,  as  if  in  the  act  of  flinging  them  at  his  almost  de- 
fenceless person.  It  was  at  this  moment  that  he  experi- 
enced aid  from  a  quarter  whence  it  was  almost  least  ex- 
pected ;  a  rifle  was  discharged  from  the  ravine,  and  as  one 
of  the  fierce  foes  suddenly  dropped,  mortally  wounded  upon 
the  floor,  he  heard  the  voice  of  Pardon,  the  Yankee,  cry- 
ing, in  tones  of  desperation,  "When  there's  no  dodging  'em, 
then  I'm  the  man  for  'em,  or  it  a'n't  no  matter !" 

"Bravo !  bravely  done,  Emperor  and  Dodge  both !"  cried 
Roland,  to  whom  this  happy  and  quite  unexpected  display 
of  courage  from  his  followers,  and  its  successful  results, 
imparted  a  degree  of  assurance  and  hope  not  before  felt; 
for,  indeed,  up  to  this  moment,  his  feeling  had  been  the 
mere  frenzy  of  despair,  "courage,  and  rush  on  !"  And  with 
these  words  he  did  not  hesitate  to  dash  against  the  remain- 
ing foe,  striking  up  the  uplifted  hatchet  with  his  rifle,  and 
endeavoring  with  the  same  effort  to  dash  his  weapon  into 
the  warrior's  face.  But  the  former  part  only  of  the 
manoeuvre  succeeded;  the  tomahawk  was  indeed  dashed 
aside,  but  the  rifle  was  torn  from  his  own  grasp,  and  the 
next  moment  he  was  clutched  as  in  the  embrace  of  a  bear, 
and  pressed  with  suffocating  force  upon  the  breast  of  his 
undaunted  adversary. 

"Brudder  I"  growled  the  savage,  and  the  form  flew  from 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  147 

his  grinning  lips,  advanced  until  they  were  almost  in  con- 
tact with  the  soldier's  face,  "Brudder  I"  he  cried,  as  he  felt 
his  triumph,  and  twined  his  arms  still  more  tightly 
around  Roland's  frame,  "Long-knife  nothing !  hab  a  scalp, 
Shawnee  I" 

With  these  words  he  sprang  from  the  broken  floor  of  the 
passage,  on  which  the  encounter  began,  and  dragging  the 
soldier  along,  made  as  if  he  would  have  carried  him  off 
alive.  But  although  in  the  grasp  of  a  man  of  much  su- 
perior strength,  the  resolution  and  activity  of  Roland  pre- 
served him  from  a  destiny  at  once  so  fearful  and  ignoble. 
He  exerted  the  strength  he  possessed  at  the  instant  when 
the  bulky  captor  was  springing  from  the  floor  to  the 
broken  ground  beneath,  and  with  such  effect  that,  though 
it  did  not  entirely  release  him  from  his  grasp,  it  carried 
them  headlong  to  the  earth  together ;  whence,  after  a  brief 
and  blind  struggle,  both  rose  together,  each  clutching  at 
the  weapon  that  promised  soonest  to  terminate  the  contest. 

The  pistol  of  the  soldier,  which,  as  well  as  Emperor's,  the 
peaceful  Nathan  had  taken  the  precaution  to  carry  with 
him  into  the  ruin,  had  been  forgotten  in  the  suddenness 
and  hurry  of  the  assault,  his  rifle  had  been  wrested  from  his 
hands,  and  thrown  he  knew  not  where.  The  knife,  which, 
like  a  true  adventurer  of  the  forest,  he  had  buckled  in  his 
belt,  was  ready  to  be  grasped ;  but  the  instinct  of  long  habits 
carried  his  hand  to  the  broad-sword,  which  was  yet  strapped 
to  his  thigh;  and  this,  as  he  rose,  he  attempted  to  draw, 
not  doubting  that  a  single  blow  from  the  trusty  steel  would 
rid  him  of  his  brown  enemy.  But  the  Shawnee,  as  bold 
as  alert,  and  far  more  discreet,  better  acquainted  too  with 
those  savage  personal  rencontres  which  make  up  so  large 
a  portion  of  Indian  warfare,  had  drawn  his  knife  before 
he  had  yet  regained  his  footing ;  and  before  the  Virginia's 
sword  was  half  unsheathed,  the  hand  that  tugged  at  it 
was  again  seized  and  held  as  in  a  vise,  while  the  warrior, 
elevating  his  own  free  weapon  above  his  head,  prepared, 
with  a  laugh  and  whoop  of  triumph  to  plunge  it  into  the 
soldier's  throat.  His  countenance,  grim  with  war-paint, 


148  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

grimmer  still  with  ferocious  exultation,  was  distinctly  per- 
ceived, the  bright  blaze  of  the  fire  shining  through  the 
gaps  of  the  hovel,  so  as  to  illuminate  every  feature;  and 
Koland,  as  he  strove  in  vain  to  clutch  at  the  uplifted  arm 
so  as  to  avert  the  threatened  blow,  could  distinguish  every 
motion  of  the  weapon  and  every  change  of  >his  foeman's 
visage. 

But  he  did  not  even  then  despair,  for  he  was  in  all  cir- 
cumstances affecting  only  himself  a  man  of  true  intrepid- 
ity; and  it  was  only  when,  on  a  sudden,  the  light  wholly 
vanished  from  the  hovel,  as  if  the  brands  had  been  scat- 
tered and  trodden  out,  that  he  began  to  anticipate  a  fatal 
result  from  the  advantage  possessed  by  his  opponent.  But 
at  that  very  instant,  and  while  blinded  by  the  sudden  dark- 
ness, he  was  expecting  the  blow  which  he  no  longer  knew 
how  to  avoid,  the  laugh  of  the  warrior,  now  louder  and 
more  exultant  than  before,  was  suddenly  changed  to  a 
yell  of  agony.  A  jet  of  warm  blood,  at  the  same  moment, 
gushed  over  Roland's  right  arm;  and  the  savage,  struck 
by  an  unknown  hand,  or  by  a  random  ball,  fell  a  dead  man 
at  his  feet,  overwhelming  the  soldier  in  his  fall. 

"Up,  and  do  according  to  thee  conscience !"  cried  Nathan 
Slaughter,  whose  friendly  arm,  more  nervous  than  that  of 
his  late  foe,  at  this  conjunction  jerked  Roland  from  beneath 
the  body ;  "f or,  truly,  thee  fights  like  unto  a  young  lion,  or 
an  old  bear;  and,  truly,  I  will  not  censure  thee,  if  thee 
kills  a  whole  dozen  of  the  wicked  cut-throats !  Here  is 
thee  gun  and  thee  pistols;  fire  and  shout  aloud  with  thee 
voice;  for,  of  a  verity,  thee  enemies  is  confounded  by  thee 
resolution;  do  thee  make  them  believe  thee  has  been  rein- 
forced by  numbers." 

And  with  that  the  peaceful  Nathan,  uplifting  his  voice, 
and  springing  among  the  ruins  from  log  to  log,  began  to 
utter  a  series  of  shouts,  all  designed  to  appear  as  if  coming 
from  different  throats,  and  all  expressing  such  manly  cour- 
age and  defiance,  that  even  Pardon  Dodge,  who  yet  lay 
ensconced  among  the  rocks  of  the  ravine,  and  Emperor, 
the  negro,  who,  it  seems,  had  taken  post  behind  the  ruins 

-***' 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  149 

at  the  door,  felt  their  spirits  wax  resolute  and  valiant,  and 
added  their  voices  to  the  din,  the  one  roaring,  "Come  on, 
ye  'tarnal  critturs,  if  you  must  come!"  while  the  other 
bellowed,  with  equal  spirit,  "Don't  care  for  niggah  Injun 
no  way — will  fight  and  die  for  massa  and  missie-!" 

All  these  several  details,  from  the  moment  of  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  warrior  at  the  door  until  the  loud  shouts 
of  the  besieged  travellers,  took  the  place  of  the  savage 
whoops  previously  sounded,  passed  in  fewer  moments  than 
we  have  taken  pages  to  record  them.  The  rush  of  Nathan 
against  the  leader,  the  discomfiture  of  one,  and  the  death 
of  his  two  other  comrades,  were  indeed  the  work  of  but 
an  instant,  as  it  seemed  to  Eoland ;  and  he  was  scarce  aware 
of  the  assault,  before  he  perceived  that  it  was  over.  The 
successful,  and,  doubtless,  the  wholly  unexpected  resist- 
ance of  the  little  party,  resulting  in  a  manner  so  fatal  to 
the  advanced  guard  of  assailants,  had  struck  terror  and 
confusion  into  the  main  body,  whose  presence  had  been  only 
made  known  by  their  yells,  not  a  single  shot  having  yet 
been  fired  by  them. 

It  was  in  this  moment  of  confusion  that  Nathan  sprang 
to  the  side  of  Koland,  who  was  hastily  recharging  his  piece, 
and  catching  him  by  the  hand,  said,  with  a  voice  that  be- 
trayed the  deepest  agitation,  though  his  countenance  was 
veiled  in  night, — "Friend,  I  have  betrayed  thee  poor  wo- 
men into  danger,  so  that  the  axe  and  scalping-knife  is 
now  near  their  innocent  poor  heads  I" 

"It  needs  not  to  speak  of  it,"  said  Roland,  adding  hastily, 
"The  miscreant  that  entered  the  cabin — did  you  kill  him  ?" 

"Kill,  friend!  I  kill!"  echoed  Nathan,  with  accents 
more  disturbed  than  ever;  "would  thee  have  me  a  mur- 
derer? Truly,  I  did  creep  over  him,  and  leave  the 
cabin " 

"And  left  him  in  it  alive !"  cried  Roland,  who  was  about 
to  rush  into  the  hovel,  when  Nathan  detained  him,  saying, 
"Don't  thee  be  alarmed,  friend.  Truly  thee  may  think  it 
was  ill  of  me  to  fall  upon  him  so  violently;  but,  truly, 
he  must  have  split  his  head  on  a  log,  or  wounded  himself 


150  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

with  a  splinter;  or  perhaps  the  colored  person  struck  him 
with  a  knife ;  but,  truly,  as  it  happened,  his  blood  spouted 
on  my  hand,  by  reason  of  the  hurt  he  got,  so  that  I  left 
him  clean  dead." 

"Good  I"  said  Eoland ;  'but,  by  heaven,  I  hoped  and  be- 
lieved you  had  yourself  finished  him  like  a  man.  But 
time  presses;  we  must  retreat  again  to  the  woods — they 
are  yet  open  behind  us." 

"Thee  is  mistaken,"  said  Nathan,  and,  as  if  to  confirm 
his  words,  there  arose  at  that  instant  a  loud  whooping,  with 
the  crack  of  a  dozen  or  more  rifles,  let  fly  with  impotent 
rage  by  the  enemy,  showing  plainly  enough  that  the  ruin 
was  already  actually  environed. 

"The  ravine — the  river !"  cried  Forrester ;  "we  can  swim 
it  with  the  horses,  if  it  be  not  f  ordable." 

"It  is  a  torrent  that  would  sweep  thee,  with  thee  strong- 
est war-horse,  to  perdition,"  muttered  Nathan;  "does  thee 
not  hear  how  it  roars  among  the  rocks  and  cliffs?  It  is 
here  deep,  narrow,  and  rocky;  and  though  in  the  season  of 
drought,  a  child  might  step  across  it  from  rock  to  rock,  it 
is  a  cataract  in  the  time  of  floods.  No,  friend,  I  have 
brought  thee  into  a  trap  whence  thee  has  no  escape,  unless 
thee  would  desert  thee  poor  helpless  women." 

"Put  but  them  in  safety,"  said  Eoland,  "and  I  care  not 
for  the  rest.  And  yet  I  do  not  despair;  we  have  shown 
what  we  can  do  by  resolation ;  we  can  keep  the  cut-throats 
at  bay  till  the  morning." 

"And  what  will  that  advantage  thee,  except  to  see  thee 
poor  females  murdered  in  the  light  of  the  sun,  instead  of 
having  them  killed  out  of  thee  sight  in  darkness?  Truly, 
the  first  glimmer  in  dawn  will  be  the  signal  of  death  to  all ; 
for  then  the  Shawnees  will  find  thee  weakness,  if  indeed 
they  do  not  find  it  before." 

"Man !"  said  Eoland,  "why  should  you  drive  me  to  de- 
spair? Give  me  better  comfort — give  me  counsel,  or  say 
no  more.  You  have  brought  us  to  this  pass ;  do  your  best 
to  save  us,  or  our  blood  be  upon  your  head." 

To  these  words  of  unjust  reproach,  wrung  from  the 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS*  151 

young  soldier  by  the  bitterness  of  his  feelings,  Nathan 
at  first  made  no  reply.  Preserving  silence  for  awhile,  he 
said,  at  last : — 

"Well,  friend,  I  counsel  thee  to  be  of  good  heart,  and  to 
do  what  thee  can,  making  thee  enemies,  since  thee  cannot 
increase  thee  friends,  as  few  in  numbers  as  possible;  to  do 
which,  friend,"  he  added,  suddenly,  "if  thee  will  shoot 
that  evil  creature  that  lies  like  a  log  on  the  earth,  creeping 
towards  the  ruin,  I  will  have  no  objection." 

With  these  words,  which  were  uttered  in  a  low  voice, 
Nathan,  pulling  the  young  man  behind  a  screen  of  fallen 
timbers  near  to  which  they  stood,  endeavored  to  point  him 
out  the  enemy  whom  his  eye  had  that  moment  detected 
crawling  towards  the  hovel  with  the  subtle  motion  of  a 
serpent.  But  the  vision  of  Eoland,  not  yet  accustomed  to 
trace  objects  in  the  darkness  of  a  wood,  failed  to  discover 
the  approaching  foe. 

"Truly,"  said  Nathan,  somewhat  impatiently,  "if  thee 
will  not  consider  it  as  an  evil  thing  of  me,  and  a  blood- 
guiltiness,  I  will  hold  thee  gun  for  thee,  and  thee  shall 
pull  the  trigger !" — which  piece  of  service  the  man  of 
peace,  having  doubtless  satisfied  his  conscience  of  its  law- 
fulness, was  actually  about  to  render  the  soldier,  when  the 
good  intention  was  set  at  naught  by  the  savage  suddenly 
leaping  to  his  feet,  followed  by  a  dozen  others,  all  spring- 
ing, as  it  seemed,  out  of  the  earth,  and  rushing  with  wild 
yells  against  the  ruin.  The  suddenness  and  fury  of  the 
attack  struck  dismay  to  the  bosom  of  the  soldier,  who  dis- 
charging his  rifle,  and  snatching  up  his  pistols,  already  in 
imagination  beheld  the  bloody  fingers  of  a  barbarian 
grasped  among  the  bright  locks  of  his  Edith ;  when  Nathan, 
crying,  "Blood  upon  my  hands,  but  not  upon  my  head ! — 
give  it  to  them,  murdering  dogs!"  let  fly  his  own  piece 
upon  the  throng;  the  effect  of  which,  together  with  the 
discharge  of  Roland's  pistols  immediately  after,  was  such 
as  to  stagger  the  assailants,  of  whom  but  a  single  one  pre- 
served resolution  enough  to  advance  upon  the  defenders, 
whooping  to  his  companions  in  vain  to  follow. 


152  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"Thee  will  remember  I  fight  to  save  the  lives  of  thee 
helpless  women!"  muttered  Nathan  in  Roland's  ear;  and 
then,  as  if  the  first  act  of  warfare  had  released  him  for. 
ever  from  all  peaceful  obligations,  awoke  a  courage  and 
appetite  for  blood  superior  even  to  the  soldier's,  and  in 
other  words,  set  him  entirely  beside  himself,  he  rushed 
against  the  advancing  Shawnee,  dealing  him  a  blow  with 
the  butt  of  his  heavy-stocked  rifle  that  crushed  through 
skull  and  brain  as  through  a  gourd,  killing  the  man  on  the 
spot.  Then,  leaping  like  a  buck  to  avoid  the  shot  of  the 
others,  he  rushed  back  to  the  ruin,  and  grasping  the  hand 
of  the  admiring  soldier,  and  wringing  it  with  all  his 
might,  he  cried,  "Thee  sees  what  thee  has  brought  me  to ! 
Friend,  thee  has  seen  me  shed  a  man's  blood !  But,  never- 
theless, friend,  the  villains  shall  not  kill  thee  poor  women, 
nor  harm  a  hair  of  their  heads." 

The  valor  of  the  man  of  peace  was  fortunately  seconded 
on  this  occasion  by  Dodge  and  the  negro,  the  former  from 
his  hiding  place  in  the  ravine,  the  latter  from  among  the 
ruins;  and  the  enemy,  thus  seriously  warned  of  the  dan- 
ger of  approaching  too  nigh  a  fortress  manned  by  what  very 
naturally  appeared  to  them  eight  different  persons — for 
such,  including  the  pistols,  was  the  number  of  fire-arms — 
retired  precipitately  to  the  woods,  where  they  expressed 
their  hostility  only  by  occasional  whoops,  and  now  and 
then  by  a  shot  fired  impotently  against  the  ruins. 

The  success  of  this  second  defence,  the  spirited  behavior 
of  Dodge  and  Emperor,  but  more  than  all  the  happy  change 
in  the  principles  and  practice  of  Nathan,  who  seemed  as 
if  about  to  prove  that  he  could  deserve  the  nickname  of 
Bloody,  so  long  bestowed  upon  him  in  derision,  greatly 
relieved  the  spirits  of  the  soldier,  who  was  not  without 
hopes  of  being  able  to  maintain  the  contest  until  the 
enemy  should  be  discouraged  and  driven  off,  or  some  provi- 
dential accident  bring  him  succor. 

He  took  advantage  of  the  cessation  of  hostilities  to  creep 
into  the  hovel  and  whisper  words  of  assurance  to  his  fee- 
bler dependants,  of  whom  indeed  Telie  Doe  now  betrayed 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  153 

the  greatest  distress  and  agitation,  while  Edith  on  the  con- 
trary maintained,  as  he  judged — for  the  fire  was  extin- 
guished, and  he  saw  not  her  countenance — a  degree  of 
tranquillity  he  had  not  dared  to  hope.  It  was  a  tran- 
quillity, however,  resulting  from  despair  and  stupor — 
a  lethargy  of  spirit  resulting  from  over-wrought  feelings, 
in  which  she  happily  remained,  more  than  half  uncon- 
scious of  what  was  passing  around  her. 


CHAPTEK  XV. 

Why  thou  wert  better  in  thy  grave,  than  to  answer  this  ex- 
tremity. — Lear. 

THE  enemy,  twice  repulsed,  and  on  both  occasions  with 
severe  loss,  had  been  taught  the  folly  of  exposing  them- 
selves too  freely  to  the  fire  of  the  travellers;  but,  al- 
though driven  back,  they  manifested  little  inclination  to 
fly  further  than  was  necessary  to  obtain  shelter,  and  as 
little  to  give  over  their  fierce  purposes.  Concealing  them- 
selves severally  behind  logs,  rocks,  and  bushes,  and  so  dis- 
posing their  force  as  to  form  a  line  around  the  ruin,  open 
only  towards  the  river,  where  escape  was  obviously  imprac- 
ticable, they  employed  themselves  in  keeping  a  strict  watch 
upon  the  hovel,  firing  repeated  volleys,  and  as  often  utter- 
ing yells,  with  which  they  sought  to  strike  terror  into  the 
hearts  of  the  travellers. 

Occasionally  some  single  warrior,  bolder  than  the  rest, 
would  creep  near  the  ruins,  and  obtaining  such  shelter  as 
he  could,  discharge  his  piece  at  any  mouldering  beam,  or 
other  object,  which  his  fancy  converted  into  the  exposed 
body  of  a  defender.  But  the  travellers  had  taken  good 
care  to  establish  themselves  in  such  positions  among  the 
ruins  as  offered  the  best  protection;  and  although  the  bul- 
lets whistled  sharp  and  nigh,  not  a  single  one  had  yet  re- 


154  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

ceived  a  wound;  nor  was  there  much  reason  to  apprehend 
injury,  so  long  as  the  darkness  of  night  befriended  them. 

Yet  it  was  obvious  to  all  that  this  state  of  security  could 
not  last  long,  and  that  it  existed  only  because  the  enemy 
was  not  yet  aware  of  his  advantage.  The  condition  of  the 
ruins  was  such,  that  a  dozen  men  of  sufficient  spirit,  divid- 
ing themselves,  and  creeping  along  the  earth,  might  at  any 
moment  make  their  way  to  any  and  every  part  of  the 
hovel  without  being  seen,  when  a  single  rush  must  put  it 
in  their  power.  An  open  assault,  indeed,  from  the  whole 
body  of  besiegers,  whose  number  was  reckoned  by  Nathan 
at  full  fifteen  or  twenty,  must  have  produced  the  same 
success,  though  with  the  loss  of  several  lives.  A  random 
shot  might  at  any  moment  destroy  or  disable  one  of  the 
little  garrison,  and  thus  rob  one  important  corner  of  the 
hovel,  which,  from  its  dilapidated  state,  was  wholly  in- 
defensible from  within  of  defence.  It  was,  indeed,  as 
Roland  felt,  more  than  folly  to  hope  that  all  should  escape 
unharmed  for  many  hours  longer. 

But  the  worst  fear  of  all  was  that  previously  suggested 
by  Nathan : — all  might  survive  the  perils  of  the  night ;  but 
What  fate  was  to  be  expected  when  the  coming  day  should 
expose  the  party,  in  all  its  true  weakness,  to  the  eyes  of 
the  enemy?  If  relief  came  not  before  morning,  Roland's 
heart  whispered  him  it  must  come  in  vain.  But  the  prob- 
abilities of  relief — what  were  they?  The  question  was 
asked  of  Nathan,  and  the  answer  went  like  iron  through 
Roland's  soul.  They  were  in  the  deepest  and  most  solitary 
part  of  the  forest,  twelve  miles  from  Bruce's  station,  and 
at  least  eight  from  that  at  which  the  emigrants  wore  to 
lodge ;  with  no  other  places  within  twice  the  distance  from 
which  help  could  be  obtained.  They  had  left,  three  or 
four  miles  behind  them,  the  main  and  only  road  on  which 
volunteers,  summoned  from  the  western  stations  to  repel 
the  invasion,  of  which  the  news  had  arrived  before  Ro- 
land's departure  from  Bruce's  village,  could  bo  expected 
to  pass ;  if,  indeed,  the  strong  force  of  the  enemy  posted  at 
the  Upper  Ford  had  not  cut  off  all  communication  between 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  155 

the  two  districts.  From  Bruce's  station  little  or  no  assist- 
ance could  be  hoped,  the  entire  strength  of  its  garrison,  as 
Roland  well  knew,  having  long  since  departed  to  share  in 
the  struggle  on  the  north  side  of  Kentucky.  Assistance 
could  be  looked  for  only  from  his  late  companions,  the 
emigrants,  from  whom  he  had  parted  in  an  evil  hour.  But 
how  were  they  to  be  made  acquainted  with  his  situation  ? 

The  discussion  of  these  questions  almost  distracted  the 
young  man.  Help  could  only  come  from  themselves. 
Would  it  not  be  possible  to  cut  their  way  through  besiegers  ? 
He  proposed  a  thousand  wild  schemes  of  escape;  now  he 
would  mount  his  trusty  steed,  and  dashing  among  the 
enemy,  receive  their  fire,  distract  their  attention,  and  per- 
haps draw  them  in  pursuit,  while  Nathan  and  the  others 
galloped  off  with  the  women  in  another  quarter ;  and  again, 
he  would  plunge  with  them  into  the  boiling  torrent  below, 
trusting  to  the  strength  of  the  horses  to  carry  them  through 
in  safety. 

To  these  and  other  wild  proposals,  uttered  in  the  inter- 
vals of  combat,  which  was  still  maintained,  with  occasional 
demonstrations  on  the  part  of  the  enemy  advancing  to  a 
third  assault,  Nathan  replied  only  by  representing  the  cer- 
tain death  they  would  bring  upon  all,  especially  the  "poor 
helpless  women ;"  whose  condition,  with  the  reflection  that 
he  had  brought  them  into  it,  seemed  ever  to  dwell  upon 
his  mind,  producing  feelings  of  remorseful  excitement  not 
inferior  even  to  the  compunctions  which  he  expressed  at 
every  shot  discharged  by  him  at  the  foe.  Indeed  his  con- 
science seemed  sorely  distressed  and  perplexed;  now  he 
upbraided  himself  with  being  the  murderer  of  the  two 
poor  women,  and  now  of  his  Shawnee  fellow-creatures ;  now 
he  wrung  the  soldier  by  the  hand,  begging  him  to  bear  wit- 
ness that  he  was  shedding  blood,  not  out  of  malice  or  wan- 
tonness, or  even  self-defence,  but  purely  to  save  the  inno- 
cent scalps  of  poor  women,  whose  blood  would  be  other- 
wise on  his  head ;  and  now  beseeching  the  young  man  with 
equal  fervor  to  let  the  world  know  of  his  doings,  that  the 
blame  might  fall,  not  upon  the  faith  of  which  he  was  an 


156  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

unworthy  professor,  but  upon  him,  the  evil-doer  and  back- 
slider. But,  with  all  his  remorse  and  contrition,  he  mani- 
fested no  inclination  to  give  over  the  work  of  fighting ;  but, 
on  the  contrary,  fired  away  with  extreme  good-will  at  every 
evil  Shawnee  creature  that  showed  himself,  encouraging 
Roland  to  do  the  same,  exhibiting  throughout  the  whole 
contest  the  most  exemplary  courage  and  good  conduct. 

But  courage  and  good  conduct,  although  so  unexpectedly 
manifested  in  time  of  need  by  all  his  companions,  Roland 
felt,  could  only  serve  to  defer  for  a  few  hours  the  fate  of 
his  party.  The  night  wore  away  fast — the  assailants  grew 
bolder ;  and  from  the  louder  yells  and  more  frequent  shots 
coming  from  them,  it  seemed  as  if  their  numbers,  instead 
of  diminishing  under  his  own  fire,  were  gradually  increas- 
ing, by  the  dropping  in  of  their  scouts  from  the  forest.  At 
the  same  time,  he  became  sensible  that  his  stores  of  am- 
munition were  fast  decreasing. 

"Friend !"  said  Nathan,  wringing  the  soldier's  hand  for 
the  twentieth  time,  when  made  acquainted  with  the  de- 
ficiency, "it  is  written,  that  thee  women  shall  be  murdered 
before  thee  eyes !  Nevertheless,  I  will  do  my  best  to  save 
them.  Friend,  I  must  leave  thee !  Thee  shall  have  as- 
sistance. Can  thee  hold  out  the  hovel  till  morning?  But 
it  is  foolish  to  ask  thee;  thee  must  hold  it  out;  and  with 
none,  save  the  colored  person  and  the  man  Dodge,  to  help 
thee;  for  I  say  to  thee,  it  has  come  to  this  at  last,  as  I 
thought  it  would, — I  must  break  through  the  lines  of  thee 
Injun  foes,  and  find  thee  assistance." 

"Oh,  if  you  could !"  said  Roland,  grasping  at  the  hope ; 
"but  how  to  pass  them  in  safety  ?  Hark  you,  man,  we  can, 
by  a  show  of  attack  on  our  own  part,  draw  a  fire  from  the 
villains ;  and  then  a  horseman  as  familiar  as  yourself  with 
the  woods,  might  dash  through  and  effect  his  escape.  We 
will  do  this ;  you  shall  have  the  best  horse, — Briareus  him- 
self;  worn  and  exhausted  as  he  is,  he  will  bear  you  off  at 
the  top  of  his  speed,  and  fall  dead  before  he  attempts  to 
slacken  it.  With  him,  you  can  reach  the  emigrants  in 
half  an  hour ;  and  then — then,  heaven  be  praised !  you  will 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  157 

find  men  brave  and  true,  who  will  follow  you  as  quickly  to 
the  rescue." 

"It  would  be  the  better  for  thee  poor  women,"  replied 
Nathan,  "if  I  had  a  fleet  horse  to  bear  me  on  the  way 
faster  than  I  can  run  on  my  own  legs;  but,  truly,  friend, 
the  riding  away  of  a  man  on  horseback  through  this  crew 
of  murdering  Injuns  is  no  such  safe  matter  as  thee  thinks, 
where  there  are  knives  and  axes,  as  well  as  rifle-bullets; 
and  it  would,  besides,  be  the  ruin  of  thee  and  thee  poor 
women,  as  showing  the  lessening  of  thee  numbers,  and  the 
fear  that  was  on  thee  spirit.  Of  a  truth,  what  I  do  must 
be  done  in  secret ;  thee  enemies  must  not  know  it.  I  must 
creep  among  them,  friend,  and  make  my  way  on  foot." 

"It  is  impossible,"  said  Eoland,  in  despair;  "you  will 
only  provoke  your  destruction." 

"It  may  be,  friend,  as  thee  says,"  responded  Nathan; 
"nevertheless,  friend,  for  thee  women's  sake,  I  will  adven- 
ture it;  for  it  is  I,  miserable  sinner  that  I  am,  that  have 
brought  them  to  this  pass,  and  that  must  bring  them  out 
of  it  again,  if  man  can  do  it.  If  I  succeed,  and  thee  friends 
is  the  men  thee  says,  truly,  then  I  shall  save  thee  life  and 
the  lives  of  all;  if  I  fail,  then,  friend,  I  shall  not  see  the 
sight  I  have  seen  before, — the  death  of  innocent,  helpless 
women  under  the  Injun  scalping-knife.  Friend,  I  tell 
thee,"  he  continued,  "I  must  creep  through  thee  foes ;  and 
with  heaven's  help  and  little  Peter's,  truly  it  may  be  that 
I  shall  creep  through  them  successfully." 

At  a  moment  of  less  grief  and  desperation,  Eoland  would 
have  better  appreciated  the  magnitude  of  the  service  which 
Nathan  thus  offered  to  attempt,  and  even  hesitated  to  per- 
mit what  must  have  manifestly  seemed  the  throwing  away 
of  a  human  life.  But  the  emergency  was  too  great  to  allow 
the  operation  of  any  but  selfish  feelings.  The  existence 
of  his  companions,  the  life  of  his  Edith,  depended  upon 
procuring  relief,  and  this  could  be  obtained  in  no  other 
way.  If  the  undertaking  was  so  dangerous  in  the  ex- 
treme, he  saw  it  with  the  eyes  of  a  soldier  as  well  as  a  lover ! 
It  was  a  feat  he  himself  would  have  dared  without  hesita- 


158  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

tion,  could  it  have  promised,  in  his  hands,  any  relief  to 
his  followers. 

"Go,  then,  and  God  be  with  you,"  he  muttered,  eagerly : 
"you  have  our  lives  in  your  hand.  But  it  will  be  long, 
long  before  you  can  reach  the  band  on  foot.  Yet  do  not 
weary  or  pause  by  the  way.  I  have  but  little  wealth, — but 
with  what  I  have,  I  will  reward  you." 

"Friend,"  said  Nathan,  proudly,  "what  I  do,  I  do  for 
no  lucre  of  reward,  but  for  pity  of  thee  poor  women ;  for, 
truly,  I  have  seen  the  murdering  and  scalping  of  poor  wo- 
men before,  and  the  seeing  of  the  same  has  left  blood  upon 
my  head,  which  is  a  mournful  thing  to  think  of." 

"Well,  be  not  offended ;  do  what  you  can, — our  lives  may 
rest  on  a  single  minute." 

'I  will  do  what  I  can,  friend,"  replied  Nathan;  "and  if 
I  can  but  pass  safely  through  thee  foes,  there  is  scarce  a 
horse  in  thee  company,  were  it  even  thee  war-horse,  that 
shall  run  to  thee  friends  more  fleetly.  But,  friend,  do  thee 
hold  out  the  house;  use  thee  powder  charily;  keep  up  the 
spirits  of  thee  two  men;  and  be  of  good  heart  theeself, 
fighting  valiantly,  and  slaying  according  to  thee  conscience ; 
and  then,  friend,  if  it  be  heaven's  will,  I  will  return  to 
thee  and  help  thee  out  of  all  thee  troubles." 

With  these  words  of  encouragement,  Nathan  immediately 
prepared  for  the  undertaking,  desperate  as  it  seemed,  of 
making  his  way  through  the  lines  of  the  enemy.  His  prep- 
arations were  few  and  easily  made,  and  consisted  prin- 
cipally of  disburthening  himself  of  his  powder  and  ball, 
which  he  gave  to  Roland  to  be  divided  among  the  three 
remaining  combatants;  in  drawing  up  the  skirts  of  his 
leather  coat,  which  he  belted  round  his  waist  in  such  way  as 
to  leave  his  legs  free  for  the  peculiar  duty  to  which  they 
were  to  be  put,  and  summoning  to  his  side  little  Peter, 
whom  he  had  taken  the  earliest  opportunity  to  stow  away 
in  a  safe  place  among  the  ruins,  where  he  had  quietly  re- 
mained ever  since — for,  as  Nathan  said,  "Little  Peter's 
good  qualities  was,  not  in  fighting,  but  in  taking  care  of 
his  master."  His  rifle,  although  he  had  robbed  himself  of 


NICK   OF    THE    WOODS.  159 

ammunition,  leaving  but  a  single  charge  in  his  horn  and 
pouch,  Nathan  obstinately  insisted  on  retaining  and  carry- 
ing with  him,  however  much  it  might  encumber  him  in  his 
flight;  and  with  this  poised  in  his  hand,  his  knife  trans- 
ferred from  his  belt  to  his  breast,  where  it  was  ready  to  be 
grasped  at  a  moment's  warning,  and  little  Peter  crouched 
upon  the  earth  before  him  to  guide  the  way,  he  prepared  tos 
execute  his  bold  purpose,  with  an  alacrity  that  awoke  some- 
thing like  suspicion  in  Roland's  bosom. 

"If  you  fail  me,  man,"  he  muttered,  with  some  agitation, 
as  he  pondered  upon  the  effects  of  such  defection,  "if  you 
have  devised  this  undertaking  only  to  effect  your  own  es- 
cape, deserting  me,  deserting  my  friends,  whom  you  leave 
in  such  extremity,  abandoned  to  our  fate, — may  heaven  fail 
you  in  like  manner,  and  that  in  the  time  of  your  greatest 
need !" 

"If  thee  knew  what  it  was  to  creep  through  a  camp  of 
warring  Shawnees,"  said  Nathan,  with  great  equanimity, 
"thee  would  allow  that  the  cowardly  and  betraying  man 
would  look  for  some  safer  way  of  escape.  Do  thee  but  be 
true  to  theeself  and  thee  women  as  I  will,  and  it  may  be 
that  all  shall  yet  escape  unharmed.  Farewell,  friend,"  he 
continued,  grasping  Roland's  hand,  and  grasping  it  as  one 
who  meditated  the  mean  and  cowardly  desertion  which  Ro- 
land had  imputed  to  him,  could  never  have  done;  "if  I 
fall,  I  shall  not  hear  the  last  shriek  of  thee  murdered  wo- 
men; if  I  live,  and  thee  can  make  good  thee  defence  till 
morning,  neither  shalt  thou." 

With  these  words,  Nathan  turned  from  the  soldier,  set- 
ting out  upon  his  dangerous  duty  with  a  courage  and  self- 
devotion  of  which  Roland  did  not  yet  know  all  the  merit. 
He  threw  himself  upon  the  earth,  and  muttering  to  little 
Peter,  "Now,  Peter,  as  thee  ever  served  thee  master  well 
and  truly,  serve  him  well  and  truly  now,"  began  to  glide 
away  among  the  ruins,  making  his  way  from  log  to  log 
and  bush  to  bush  close  behind  the  animal,  who  seemed  to 
determine  the  period  and  direction  of  every  movement. 

His  course  was  down  the  river,  the  opposite  of  that  by 


160  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

which  the  party  had  reached  the  ruin,  in  which  quarter  the 
woods  were  highest,  and  promised  the  most  accessible,  as 
well  as  the  best  shelter ;  though  that  could  be  reached  only 
in  the  event  of  his  successfully  avoiding  the  different  bar- 
barians hidden  among  the  bushes  on  its  border. 

He  soon  vanished,  with  his  dog,  from  the  eyes  of  the  sol- 
dier; who  now,  in  pursuance  of  instructions  previously 
given  him  by  Nathan,  caused  his  followers  to  let  fly  a 
volley  among  the  trees,  which  had  the  expected  effect  of 
drawing  another  in  return  from  the  foes,  accompanied  by 
their  loudest  whoops  of  menace  and  defiance.  In  this  man- 
ner Nathan,  as  he  drew  nigh  the  wood,  was  enabled  to  form 
correct  opinions  as  to  the  different  positions  of  the  be- 
siegers, and  to  select  that  point  in  the  line  which  seemed 
the  weakest ;  while  the  attention  of  the  foe  was  in  a  meas- 
ure drawn  off,  so  as  to  give  him  the  better  opportunity  of 
advancing  on  them  unobserved.  With  this  object  in  view, 
a  second  and  third  volley  were  fired  by  the  little  garrison ; 
after  which  they  ceased  making  such  feints  of  hostility,  and 
left  him,  as  he  had  directed,  to  his  fate. 

It  was  then  that,  with  a  beating  heart,  Eoland  awaited 
the  event,  and,  as  he  began  to  figure  to  his  imagination  the 
perils  which  Nathan  must  necessarily  encounter  in  the 
undertaking,  he  listened  for  the  shout  of  triumph  that  he 
feared  would,  each  moment,  proclaim  the  capture  or  death 
of  his  messenger.  But  he  listened  in  vain,  at  least,  in 
vain  for  such  sounds  as  his  skill  might  interpret  into  evi- 
dences of  Nathan's  fate;  he  heard  nothing  but  the  oc- 
casional crack  of  a  rifle  aimed  at  the  ruin,  with  the  yell 
of  the  savage  that  fired  it,  the  rush  of  the  breeze,  the 
rumbling  of  the  thunder,  and  the  deep-toned  echoes  from 
the  river  below.  Nothing  whatever  occurred,  at  least  for 
a  quarter  of  an  hour,  by  which  he  might  judge  what  was 
the  issue  of  the  enterprise;  and  he  was  beginning  to  in- 
dulge the  hope  that  Nathan  had  passed  safely  through  the 
besiegers,  when  a  sudden  yell  of  a  peculiarly  wild  and 
thrilling  character,  was  uttered  in  the  wood  in  the  quarter 
in  which  Nathan  had  fled;  and  this  exciting,  as  it  seemed 


NICK   OP   THE    WOODS.  11 

to  do,  a  prodigious  sensation  among  his  foes,  filled  him 
with  anxiety  and  dread.  To  his  ears  the  shout  expressed 
fury  and  exultation,  such  as  might  well  be  felt  at  the  sud- 
den discovery  and  capture  of  the  luckless  messenger;  and 
his  fear  that  such  had  been  the  end  of  Nathan's  under- 
taking was  greatly  increased  by  what  followed.  The  shots 
and  whoops  suddenly  ceased,  and,  for  ten  minutes  or  more, 
all  was  silent,  save  the  roar  of  the  river  and  the  whispering 
of  the  fitful  breeze. 

"They  have  taken  him  alive,  poor  wretch !"  muttered  the 
soldier,  "and  now  they  are  forcing  from  him  a  confession 
of  our  weakness !" 

It  seemed  as  if  there  might  be  some  foundation  for  the 
suspicion;  for  presently  a  great  shout  burst  from  the 
enemy,  and  the  next  moment  a  rush  was  made  against  the 
ruin  as  if  by  the  whole  force  of  the  enemy.  "Fire  I" 
shouted  Roland  to  his  companions ;  "if  we  must  die,  let  it 
be  like  men ;"  and  no  sooner  did  he  behold  the  dark  figures 
of  the  assailants  leaping  among  the  ruins,  than  he  dis- 
charged his  rifle  and  a  pair  of  pistols  which  he  had  re- 
served in  his  own  hands,  the  other  pair  having  been  divided 
between  Dodge  and  the  negro,  who  used  them  with  equal 
resolution,  and  with  an  effect  that  Eoland  had  not  antic- 
ipated; the  assailants,  apparently  daunted  by  the  weight 
of  the  volley,  seven  pieces  having  been  discharged  in  rapid 
succession,  instantly  beat  a  retreat,  resuming  their  former 
positions.  From  these,  however,  they  now  maintained  an 
almost  incessant  fire ;  and  by  and  by  several  of  them,  steal- 
ing cautiously  up,  effected  a  lodgment  in  a  distant  part  of 
the  ruins,  whence,  without  betraying  any  special  desire  to 
come  to  closer  quarters,  they  began  to  carry  on  the  war  in 
a  manner  that  greatly  increased  Roland's  alarm,  their  bul- 
lets flying  about  and  into  the  hovel  so  thickly,  that  he 
became  afraid  lest  some  of  them  should  reach  its  hapless 
inhabitants. 

He  was  already  debating  within  himself  the  propriety  of 
transferring  Edith  and  her  companion  from  this  ruinous 
and  now  dangerous  abode  *n  the^ravine,  where  they  might 


162  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

be  sheltered  from  all  danger,  at  least  for  a  time,  when  a 
bolt  of  lightning,  as  he  at  first  thought  it,  shot  from  the 
nearest  group  of  foes,  flashed  over  his  head,  and  striking 
what  remained  of  the  roof,  stood  trembling  in  it,  an  arrow 
of  blazing  fire. 

The  appearance  of  this  missile,  followed,  as  it  imme- 
diately was,  by  several  others,  discharged  from  the  same 
bow,  confirmed  the  soldier's  resolution  to  remove  the  fe- 
males, while  it  greatly  increased  his  anxiety;  for  although 
there  was  little  fear  that  the  flames  could  be  communi- 
cated from  the  arrows  to  the  roof  so  deeply  saturated  by 
the  late  rains,  yet  each,  while  burning,  served  like  a  flam- 
beau, tc  illuminate  the  ruins  below,  and  must  be  expected 
before  long  to  reveal  the  helplessness  of  the  party,  and  to 
light  the  besiegers  to  their  prey. 

With  such  fear  on  his  mind,  he  hesitated  no  longer  to 
remove  his  cousin  and  her  companion  to  the  ravine,  which 
was  effected  with  but  little  risk  or  difficulty;  the  ravine 
heading,  as  was  mentioned  before,  under  the  floor  of  the 
hovel  itself,  and  its  borders  being  so  strewn  with  broken 
timbers  and  planks  as  to  screen  the  party  from  observation. 
He  concealed  them  both  among  the  rocks  and  brambles 
with  which  the  hollow  abounded,  listened  a  moment  to 
the  rush  of  the  flood  as  it  swept  the  precipitous  bank,  and 
the  roar  with  which  it  seemed  struggling  among  rocky  ob- 
structions above;  and  smiling  with  the  grim  thought,  that, 
when  resistance  was  no  longer  availing,  there  was  yet  a 
refuge  for  his  kinswoman  within  the  dark  bosom  of  those 
troubled  waters,  to  which  he  felt,  with  the  stern  resolution 
of  a  Roman  father  rather  than  of  a  Christian  lover,  that 
he  could,  when  nothing  else  remained,  consign  her  with 
his  own  hands,  he  returned  to  the  ruins,  to  keep  up  the 
appearance  of  still  defending  it,  and  to  preserve  the  en- 
trance of  the  ravine. 


NICK   OF    THE    WOODS.  163 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Rescue   those   breathing  lives  to   die  in  beds, 
That  here  come  sacrifices! 

— King  John. 

THE  flaming  arrows  were  still  shot  in  vain  at  the  water- 
soaked  roof,  and  the  combustibles  with  which  they  were 
armed  burning  out  very  rapidly,  produced  but  little  of 
that  effect  in  illuminating  the  ruins  which  Roland  had 
apprehended,  and  for  which  they  had  been  perhaps  in 
part  designed;  and,  in  consequence,  the  savages  soon 
ceased  to  shoot  them.  A  more  useful  ally  to  the  besiegers 
was  promised  in  the  moon,  which  was  now  rising  over 
the  woods,  and  occasionally  revealing  her  wan  and  wasted 
crescent  through  gaps  in  the  clouds.  Waning  in  her  last 
quarter,  and  struggling  amid  banks  of  vapor,  she  yet  re- 
tained sufficient  magnitude  and  lustre,  when  risen  a  few 
more  degrees,  to  dispel  the  almost  sepulchral  darkness  that 
had  hitherto  invested  the  ruins,  and  thus  proved  a  more 
effectual  protection  to  the  travellers  than  their  own  cour- 
age. Of  this  Roland  was  well  aware,  and  he  watched  the 
increasing  light  with  sullen  and  gloomy  forebodings, 
though  still  exhorting  his  two  supporters  to  hope  and  cour- 
age, and  setting  them  a  constant  example  of  vigilance  and 
resolution. 

But  neither  hope  nor  courage,  neither  vigilance  nor  reso- 
lution, availed  to  deprive  the  foe  of  the  advantage  he  had 
gained  in  effecting  a  lodgment  among  the  ruins,  where 
four  or  five  different  warriors  still  maintained  a  hot  fire 
upon  the  hovel,  doing,  of  course,  little  harm,  as  it  was  en- 
tirely deserted,  but  threatening  mischief  enough  when  it 
should  fall  into  their  hands — a  catastrophe  that  was  de- 
ferred only  in  consequence  of  the  extreme  cautiousness  with 
which  they  now  conducted  hostilities,  the  travellers  making 
only  a  show  of  defending  it,  though  sensible  that  it  almost 
entirely  commanded  the  ravine. 

It  was  now  more  than  an  hour  and  a  half  since  Nathan 


164  NICK    OF   THE    WOODS. 

had  departed,  and  Roland  was  beginning  himself  to  feel 
the  hope  he  encouraged  in  the  others,  that  the  man  of  peace 
had  actually  succeeded  in  effecting  his  escape,  and  that  the 
wild  whoop  which  he  at  first  esteemed  the  evidence  of  his 
capture  or  death,  and  the  assault  that  followed  it,  had  been 
caused  by  some  circumstance  having  no  relation  to  Nathan 
whatever — perhaps  by  the  arrival  of  a  reinforcement,  whose 
coming  had  infused  new  spirit  into  the  breasts  of  the  so 
long-baffled  assailants. 

"If  he  have  escaped,"  he  muttered,  "he  must  already  be 
near  the  camp — a  strong  man  and  a  fleet  runner  might 
reach  it  in  an  hour.  In  another  hour — nay,  perhaps  in 
half  a  hour,  for  there  are  good  horses  and  bold  hearts  in 
the  band — I  shall  hear  the  rattle  of  their  hoofs  in  the 
wood,  and  the  yells  of  these  cursed  bandits  scattered  like 
dust  under  their  footsteps.  If  I  can  but  hold  the  ravine 
for  an  hour !  Thank  heaven,  the  moon  is  a  second  time 
lost  in  clouds, — the  thunder  is  again  rolling  through  the 
sky !  A  tempest  now  were  better  than  the  gales  of  Araby 
— a  thunder-gust  were  our  salvation." 

The  wishes  of  the  soldier  seemed  about  to  be  fulfilled. 
The  clouds,  which  for  half  an  hour  had  been  breaking  up, 
again  gathered,  producing  thicker  darkness  than  before; 
and  heavy  peals  of  thunder,  heralded  by  pale  sheets  of 
lightning,  that  threw  a  ghastly  but  insufficient  light  over 
objects,  were  again  heard  rattling  at  a  distance  over  the 
woods.  The  fire  of  the  savages  began  to  slacken,  and  by 
and  by  entirely  ceased.  They  waited,  perhaps,  for  the  mo- 
ment when  the  increasing  glare  of  the  lightning  should  en- 
able them  better  to  distinguish  between  the  broken  tim- 
bers, the  objects  of  so  many  wasted  volleys,  and  the  crouch- 
ing bodies  of  the  defenders. 

The  soldier  took  advantage  of  this  moment  of  tran- 
quillity to  descend  to  the  river  to  quench  his  thirst,  and  to 
bear  back  some  of  the  liquid  element  to  his  waiting  follow- 
ers. While  engaged  in  this  duty,  he  cast  his  eyes  upon  the 
scene,  surveying  with  sullen  interest  the  flood  that  cut  off 
his  escape  from  the  fatal  hovel.  The  mouth  of  the  ravine 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

> 

was  wide,  and  scattered  over  with  rocks  and  bushes,  that 
even  projected  for  some  little  space  into  the  water,  the 
latter  vibrating  up  and  down  in  a  manner  that  proved  the 
strength  and  irregularity  of  the  current.  The  river  was 
here  bounded  by  frowning  cliffs,  from  which,  a  furlong 
or  two  above,  had  fallen  huge  blocks  of  stone  that  greatly 
contracted  its  narrow  channel ;  and  among  these  the  swollen 
waters  surged  and  foamed  with  the  greatest  violence,  pro- 
ducing that  hollow  roar  which  was  so  much  in  keeping 
with  the  solitude  of  the  ruin,  and  so  proper  an  accompani- 
ment to  the  growling  thunder  and  the  wild  yells  of  the  war- 
riors. Below  these  massive  obstructions,  and  opposite  the 
mouth  of  the  ravine,  the  channel  had  expanded  into  a  pool, 
in  which  the  waters  might  have  regained  their  tranquillity 
and  rolled  along  in  peace,  but  for  the  presence  of  an  island, 
which,  growing  up  in  the  centre  of  the  expanse,  consoli- 
dated by  the  roots  of  a  thousand  sand  willows  and  other 
trees  that  delight  in  such  humid  soils,  and,  in  times  of 
flood,  covered  by  a  raft  of  drift  timber  entangled  among 
its  trees,  presented  a  barrier,  on  either  side  of  which  the 
current  swept  with  speed  and  fury,  though,  as  it  seemed, 
entirely  unopposed  by  rocks. 

In  such  a  current,  as  Roland  thought,  there  was  nothing 
unusually  formidable;  a  daring  swimmer  might  easily 
make  his  way  to  the  island  opposite,  where,  if  difficulties 
were  presented  by  the  second  channel,  he  might  as  easily 
find  shelter  from  enemies  firing  on  him  from  the  banks. 
He  gazed  again  on  the  island,  which,  viewed  in  the  gloom, 
revealed  to  his  eyes  only  a  mass  of  shadowy  boughs,  rest- 
ing in  peace  and  security. 

His  heart  beat  high  with  hope,  and  he  was  beginning  to 
debate  the  chances  of  success  in  an  attempt  to  swim  his 
party  across  the  channel  on  the  horses,  when  a  flash  of 
lightning,  brighter  than  usual,  disclosed  the  fancied  island 
a  cluster  of  shaking  tree-tops,  whose  trunks,  as  well  as  the 
soil  that  supported  them,  were  buried  fathoms  deep  in  the 
flood.  At  the  same  moment  he  heard,  coming  on  a  gust 
that  repelled  and  deadened  for  a  time  the  louder  tumult 


166  KICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

from  the  rocks  above,  other  roaring  sounds,  indicating  the 
existence  of  other  rocky  obstructions  at  the  foot  of  the 
island,  among  which,  as  he  could  now  see,  the  same  flash 
having  shown  him  the  strength  of  the  current  in  the  centre 
of  the  channel,  the  swimmer  must  be  dashed  who  failed 
to  find  footing  on  the  island. 

"We  are  imprisoned,  indeed,"  he  muttered,  bitterly — 
"Heaven  has  deserted  us." 

As  he  uttered  these  repining  words,  stooping  to  dip  the 
canteen  with  which  he  was  provided  in  the  water,  a  little 
canoe,  darting  forward  with  a  velocity  that  seemed  pro- 
duced by  the  combined  strength  of  the  current  and  the 
rower,  shot  suddenly  among  the  rocks  and  bushes  at  the 
entrance  of  the  ravine,  wedging  itself  fast  among  them, 
and  a  human  figure  leaped  from  it  to  the  shore.  The  sol- 
dier started  back  aghast,  as  if  from  a  dweller  of  another 
world;  but  recovering  his  courage  in  an  instant,  and  not 
doubting  that  he  beheld  in  the  unexpected  visitor  a  Shaw- 
nee  and  foe,  who  had  thus  found  means  of  assailing  his 
party  on  the  rear,  he  rushed  upon  the  stranger  with  drawn 
sword,  for  he  had  laid  his  rifle  aside,  and  taking  him  at  a 
disadvantage,  while  stooping  to  drag  the  boat  further 
ashore,  he  smote  him  such  a  blow  over  the  head  as  brought 
him  instantly  to  the  ground,  a  dead  man  to  all  appearance, 
since,  while  his  body  fell  upon  the  earth,  his  head,  or  at 
least  a  goodly  portion  of  it,  sliced  away  by  the  blow, — 
went  skimming  into  the  water. 

"Die,  dog!"  said  Eoland,  as  he  struck  the  blow;  and 
not  content  with  that,  he  clapped  his  foot  on  the  victim's 
breast,  to  give  him  the  coup-de-grace,  when,  wonder  of 
wonders,  the  supposed  Shawnee  and  dead  man  opened  his 
lips,  and  cried  aloud,  in  good  choice  Salt-river  English — 
"'Tarnal  death  to  you,  white  man!  what  are  you 
atter?" 

It  was  the  voice,  the  never-to-be-forgotten  voice,  of  the 
captain  of  horse-thieves;  and  as  Eoland's  sword  dropped 
from  his  hand  in  surprise,  up  rose  Soaring  Kalph  himself, 
his  eyes  rolling,  as  Koland  saw  by  a  second  flash  of  light- 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

rung,  with  thrice  their  usual  obliquity,  his  left  hand 
scratching  among  the  locks  of  hair  exposed  by  the  blow  of 
the  sabre,  which  had  carried  off  a  huge  slice  of  his  hat, 
without  doing  other  mischief,  while  his  right  brandished  a 
rifle,  which  he  handled  as  if  about  to  repay  the  favor  with 
interest.  But  the  same  flash  that  revealed  his  visage  to 
the  astonished  soldier,  disclosed  also  Roland's  features  to 
him,  and  he  fairly  yelled  with  joy  at  the  sight. 

"  'Tarnal  death  to  me !"  he  roared,  first  leaping  into  the 
air  and  cracking  his  heels  together,  then  snatching  at  Ro- 
land's hand,  which  he  clutched  and  twisted  with  the  grip 
of  a  bear,  and  then  cracking  his  heels  together  again, 
"'tarnal  death  to  me,  sodger,  but  I  knowM  it  war  you 
war  in  a  squabblification !  I  heerd  the  cracking  and  the 
squeaking ;  '  'Tarnal  death  to  me  !'  says  I,  'thar's  Injuns  !' 
And  then  I  thought,  and  says  I,  e  'tarnal  death  to  me,  who 
are  they  atter  ?'  and  then,  'tarnal  death  to  me,  it  came  over 
me  like  a  strick  of  lightning,  and  says  I,  '  'tarnal  death  to 
me,  but  it's  anngelliferous  madam  that  holped  me  out  of 
the  halter!'  Strannger!"  he  roared,  executing  another 
demivolte,  "h'yar  am  I,  come  to  do  anngelliferous  madam's 
fighting  agin  all  critturs  human  and  inhuman,  Christian 
and  Injun,  white,  red,  black,  and  party-colored.  Show  me 
anngelliferous  madam,  and  then  show  me  the  abbregynes; 
and  if  you  ever  seed  fighting,  'tarnal  death  to  me,  but 
you'll  say  it  war  only  the  squabbling  of  seed-ticks  and 
blue-bottle  flies!  I  say,  sodger,  show  me  anngelliferous 
madam ;  you  cut  the  halter  and  you  cut  the  tug ;  but  it  war 
madam  the  anngel  that  set  you  on;  wharfo',  I'm  her  dog 
and  her  niggur  from  now  to  etarnity,  and  I'm  come  to 
fight  for  her,  and  lick  her  enemies  till  you  shall  see  nothing 
left  of  'em  but  ha'rs  and  nails !" 

Of  these  expressions,  uttered  with  extreme  volubility 
and  the  most  extravagant  gestures,  Roland  took  no  notice ; 
his  astonishment  at  the  horse-thief's  appearance  was  giv- 
ing way  to  new  thoughts  and  hopes,  and  he  eagerly  de- 
manded of  Ralph  how  he  had  got  there, 


168  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"In  the  dug-out,"*  said  Kalph;  "found  her  floating 
among  the  bushes,  ax'd  me  out  a  flopperf  with  my  tom- 
axe  in  no  time,  jumped  in,  thought  of  anngelliferous 
madam,  and  came  down  the  falls  like  a  cob  in  a  corn  van 
— Arn't  I  the  leaping  trout  of  the  waters?  Strannger,  I 
don't  want  to  sw'ar,  but  I  reckon  if  there  arn't  hell  up  thar 
among  the  big  stones,  thar's  hell  no  other  whar  all  about 
Salt  "River !  But  I  say,  sodger,  I  came  here  not  to  talk  nor 
cavort,$  but  to  show  that  I'm  the  man,  Kalph  Stackpole, 
to  die  dog  for  them  that  pats  me.  So  whar's  anngelliferous 
madam?  Let  me  see  her,  sodger,  that  I  may  feel  wolfish 
when  I  jumps  among  the  red-skins;  for  I'm  all  for  a 
fight,  and  thar  arn't  no  run  in  me." 

"It  is  well,  indeed,  if  it  shall  prove  so,"  said  Eoland,  not 
without  bitterness,  "for  it  is  to  you  alone  we  owe  all  our 
misfortunes." 

With  these  words,  he  led  the  way  to  the  place  where, 
among  the  horses,  concealed  among  brambles  and  stones, 
lay  the  unfortunate  females  cowering  on  the  bare  earth. 
The  pale  sheets  of  lightning,  flashing  now  with  greater 
frequency,  revealed  them  to  Ealph's  eyes,  a  ghastly  and 
melancholy  pair,  whose  appearance  were  well  fitted  to 
move  the  feelings  of  a  manly  bosom;  Edith  lying  almost 
insensible  across  Telie's  knees,  while  the  latter,  weeping 
bitterly,  yet  seemed  striving  to  forget  her  own  distresses 
while  ministering  to  those  of  her  companion. 

"  'Tarnal  death  to  me !"  cried  Stackpole,  looking  upon 
Edith's  pallid  visage  and  rayless  eyes  with  more  emotion 
than  would  have  been  expected  from  his  rude  character, 
or  than  was  expressed  in  his  uncouth  phrases,  "if  that 
don't  make  me  eat  a  niggur,  may  I  be  tetotaciously  chawed 
up  myself!  Oh,  you  anngelliferous  madam,  jist  look  up 
and  say  the  word,  for  I'm  now  ready  to  mount  a  wild  cat; 
jist  look  up,  and  don't  make  a  die  of  it,  for  thar's  no  oc- 

*Dug-out — a  canoe,  because  dug  out,  or  hollowed  with  the 
axe. 

t  Flopper — a  flapper,  a  paddle. 

$  Cavort — to  play  pranks,  to  gasconade. 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  :169 

casion;  for  arn't  I  your  niggur  slave,  Ralph  Stackpole? 
and  arn't  I  come  to  lick  all  that's  agin  you,  Mingo,  Shaw- 
nee,  Delaware,  and  all?  Oh,  you  anngelliferous  crittur, 
don't  swound  away,  but  look  up,  and  see  how  I'll  wallop 
'em !" 

And  here  the  worthy  horse-thief,  seeing  that  his  exhor- 
tations produced  no  effect  upon  the  apparently  dying 
Edith,  dropped  upon  his  knees,  and  began  to  blubber  and 
lament  over  her,  as  if  overcome  by  his  feelings,  promising 
her  a  world  of  Indian  scalps,  and  a  whole  Salt-river  full 
of  Shawnee  blood,  if  she  would  only  look  up  and  see  how 
he  went  about  it. 

"Show  your  gratitude  by  actions,  not  by  words/'  said 
Roland,  who,  whatever  his  cause  for  disliking  the  zealous 
Ealph,  was  not  unrejoiced  at  his  presence,  as  that  of  a 
valuable  auxiliary;  "rise  up,  and  tell  me,  in  the  name  of 
heaven,  how  you  succeeded  in  reaching  this  place,  and 
what  hope  there  is  of  leaving  it !" 

But  Ralph  was  too  much  afflicted  with  the  wretched 
condition  of  Edith,  whom  his  gratitude  for  the  life  she 
had  bestowed  had  made  the  mistress  paramount  of  his 
soul,  to  give  much  heed  to  any  one  but  herself ;  and  it  was 
only  by  dint  of  hard  questioning  that  Roland  drew  from 
him,  little  by  little,  an  account  of  the  causes  which  had 
kept  him  in  the  vicinity  of  the  travellers,  and  finally 
brought  him  to  the  scene  of  combat. 

It  had  been,  it  appeared,  an  eventful  and  unlucky  day 
with  the  horse-thief,  as  well  as  the  soldier.  Aside  from 
his  adventure  on  the  beech-tree,  enough,  in  all  truth,  to 
mark  the  day  for  him  with  a  black  stone,  he  had  been  pecul- 
iarly unfortunate  with  the  horses  to  which  he  had  so  un- 
ceremoniously helped  himself.  The  gallant  Briareus,  after 
sundry  trials  of  strength  with  his  new  master,  had  at  last 
succeeded  in  throwing  him  from  his  back;  and  the  two- 
year-old  pony,  after  obeying  him  the  whole  day  with  the 
docility  of  a  dog,  even  when  the  halter  was  round  his  neck, 
and  carrying  him  in  safety  until  within  a  few  miles  of 
Jackson's  station,  had  attempted  the  same  exploit,  and  sue- 


170  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

ceeded,  galloping  off  on  the  back-track  towards  his  home. 
This  second  loss  was  the  more  intolerable,  since  Stack- 
pole,  having  endured  the  penalty  for  stealing  him,  con- 
sidered himself  as  having  a  legal  Lynch-like  right  to  the 
animal,  which  no  one  could  now  dispute.  He  therefore 
returned  in  pursuit  of  the  pony,  until  night  arrested  his 
footsteps  on  the  banks  of  the  river,  which,  the  waters  still 
rising,  he  did  not  care  to  cross  in  the  dark.  He  had  there- 
fore built  a  fire  by  the  roadside,  intending  to  camp  out 
till  morning. 

"And  it  was  your  fire,  then,  that  checked  us  ?"  cried  Eo- 
land,  at  this  part  of  the  story, — "it  was  your  light  we  took 
for  the  watch  fire  of  Indians  ?" 

"Injuns  you  may  say,"  quoth  Stackpole,  innocently; 
"for  thar  war  a  knot  of  'em  I  seed  sneaking  over  the  ford ; 
and  jist  as  I  was  squinting  a  long  aim  at  'em,  hoping  I 
might  smash  two  of  'em  at  a  lick,  slam-bang  goes  a  feller 
that  had  got  behind  me,  'tarnal  death  to  him,  and  roused 
me  out  of  my  snuggery.  Well,  sodger,  then  I  jumps  into 
the  cane,  and  next  into  the  timber;  for  I  reckoned  all  In- 
jun creation  war  atter  me.  And  so  I  sticks  fast  in  a  lick ; 
and  then  to  sumtotalize,  I  wallops  down  a  rock,  eend  fore- 
most, like  a  bull-toad;  and,  'tarnal  death  to  me,  while  I 
war  scratching  my  head,  and  wondering  whar  I  came  from, 
I  heerd  the  crack  of  the  guns  across  the  river,  and  thought 
of  anngelliferous  madam.  'Tarnal  death  to  me,  sodger, 
it  turned  me  wrong  side  out !  and  while  I  war  axing  all 
natur'  how  I  war  to  get  over,  what  should  I  do  but  see  the 
old  sugar-trough  floating  in  the  bushes, — I  seed  her  in  a 
strick  of  lightning.  So  pops  I  in,  and  paddles  I  down,  till 
I  comes  to  the  rocks — and  arn't  they  beauties?  'H'yar 
goes  for  grim  death  and  massacreation,'  says  I,  and  tuck 
the  shoot ;  and  if  I  didn't  fetch  old  dug-out  through  slicker 
than  snakes,  and  faster  than  a  well-greased  thunderbolt, 
niggurs  arn't  niggurs,  nor  Injuns  Injuns ;  and,  strannger, 
if  you  axes  me  why,  h'yar's  the  wharfo' — 'twar  because  I 
thought  of  anngelliferous  madam!  Strannger,  I  am  the 
gentleman  to  see  her  out  of  a  fight;  and  so  jist  tell  her 


NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

thar's  no  occasion  for  being  uneasy;  for,  'tarnal  death  to 
me,  I'll  mount  Shawnees,  and  die  for  her,  jist  like  noth- 
ing." 

"Wretch  that  you  are,"  cried  Eoland,  whose  detestation 
of  the  unlucky  cause  of  his  troubles  revived  by  the  dis- 
covery that  it  was  to  his  presence  at  the  ford  they  owed 
their  last  and  most  fatal  disappointment,  rendered  him 
somewhat  insensible  to  the  good  feeling  and  courage  which 
had  brought  the  grateful  fellow  to  his  assistance — "you 
were  born  for  our  destruction ;  every  way  you  have  proved 
our  ruin;  but  for  you,  my  poor  kinswoman  would  have 
been  now  in  safety  among  her  friends.  Had  she  left  you 
hanging  on  the  beech  you  would  not  have  been  on  the 
river,  to  cut  off  her  only  escape,  when  pursued  close  at 
hand  by  murderous  savages/' 

The  reproach,  now  for  the  first  time  acquainting  Stack- 
pole  with  the  injury  he  had,  though  so  unintentionally  and 
innocently,  inflicted  upon  his  benefactress;  and  the  sight 
of  her,  lying  apparently  half  dead  at  his  feet,  wrought  up 
the  feelings  of  the  worthy  horse-thief  to  a  pitch  of  desper- 
ate compunction,  mingled  with  fury. 

"If  I'm  the  crittur  that  helped  her  into  the  fix,  I'm  the 
crittur  to  holp  her  out  of  it.  'Tarnal  death  to  me,  whar's 
the  Injuns  ?  H'yar  goes  to  eat  'em !" 

With  that  he  uttered  a  yell, — the  first  human  cry  that 
had  been  uttered  for  some  time,  for  the  assailants  were 
still  resting  on  their  arms, — and  rushing  up  the  ravine,  as 
if  well  acquainted  with  the  localities  of  the  station,  he  ran 
to  the  ruin,  repeating  his  cries  at  every  step,  with  a  loud- 
ness  and  vigor  of  tone  that  soon  drew  a  response  from  the 
lurking  enemy. 

"H'yar,  you  'tarnal-temporal,  long-legged,  'tater-headed 
paint-faces !"  he  roared,  leaping  from  the  passage  floor  to 
the  pile  of  ruins  before  the  door  of  the  hovel  (where  Em- 
peror yet  lay  ensconced,  and  whither  Eoland  followed  him), 
as  if  in  utter  defiance  of  the  foemen,  whom  he  hailed  with 
such  opprobrious  epithets, — "h'yar,  you  bald-head,  smoke- 
dried,  punkin-eating  red-skins!  you  half-niggurs !  you 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

'coon- whelps !  you  snakes!  you  varmints!  you  ragga- 
muffins,  what  goes  about  licking  women  and  children,  and 
scar'ring  anngelliferous  madam!  git  up  and  show  your 
scalp-locks;  for,  'tarnal  death  to  me,  I'm  the  man  to  take 
7em — cock-a-doodle-doo !" 

And  the  valiant  horse-thief  concluded  his  warlike  de- 
fiance with  such  a  crow  as  might  have  struck  consternation 
to  the  heart,  not  merely  of  the  best  game-cock  in  Kentucky, 
but  to  the  bird  of  Jove  itself.  Great  was  the  excitement 
it  produced  among  the  warriors.  A  furious  hubbub  was 
heard  to  arise  among  them,  followed  by  many  wrathful 
voices,  exclaiming,  in  broken  English,  with  eager  haste, 
"Know  him  dah!  cuss'  rascal!  Cappin  Stackpole!  steal 
Injun  hoss  !"  And  the  'steal  Injun  hoss  !'  iterated  and  re- 
iterated by  a  dozen  voices,  and  always  with  the  most 
iracund  emphasis,  enabled  Eoland  to  form  a  proper  con- 
ception of  the  sense  in  which  his  enemies  held  that  offence, 
as  well  as  of  the  great  merits  and  wide-spread  fame  of  his 
new  ally,  whose  mere  voice  had  thrown  the  red-men  into 
such  a  ferment. 

But  it  was  not  with  words  alone  they  vented  their  dis- 
pleasure. Rifle-shots  and  execrations  were  discharged  to- 
gether against  the  notorious  enemy  of  their  pinfolds;  who 
nothing  daunted,  and  nothing  loath,  let  fly.  his  own  "speech- 
ifier,"  as  he  denominated  his  rifle,  in  return,  accompanying 
the  salute  with  divers  yells  and  maledictions,  in  which  lat- 
ter he  showed  himself,  to  say  the  truth,  infinitely  superior 
to  his  antagonists.  He  would  even,  so  great  and  fervent 
was  his  desire  to  fight  the  battles  of  his  benefactress  to 
advantage,  have  retained  his  exposed  stand  on  the  pile  of 
ruins,  daring  every  bullet,  had  not  Eoland  dragged  him 
down  by  main  force,  and  compelled  him  to  seek  a  shelter 
like  the  rest, — from  which,  however,  he  carried  on  the 
war,  loading  and  firing  his  piece  with  wonderful  rapidity, 
and  yelling  and  roaring  all  the  time  with  triumphant  fury, 
as  if  reckoning  upon  every  shot  to  bring  down  an  enemy. 

But  it  was  not  many  minutes  before  Roland  began  to 
fear  that  the  fatality  which  had  marked  all  his  relations 


NICK   OF    THE    WOODS.  173 

with  the  intrepid  horse-thief,  had  not  yet  lost  its  influence, 
and  that  Stackpole's  present  assistance  was  any  thing  but 
advantageous  to  his  cause.  It  seemed,  indeed,  as  if  the 
savages  had  been  driven  to  increased  rage  by  the  discovery 
of  his  presence;  and  that  the  hope  of  capturing  him,  the 
most  daring  and  inveterate  of  the  hungerers  after  Indian 
horse-flesh,  and  requiting  his  manifold  transgressions  on 
the  spot,  had  infused  into  them  new  spirit  and  fiercer  de- 
termination. Their  fire  became  more  vigorous,  their  shouts 
more  wild  and  ferocious;  those  who  had  effected  a  lodg- 
ment among  the  ruins  crept  nigher,  while  others  appeared, 
dealing  their  shots  from  other  quarters  close  at  hand; 
and,  in  fine,  the  situation  of  his  little  party  became  so  pre- 
carious, that  Eoland,  apprehending  every  moment  a  gen- 
eral assault,  and  despairing  of  being  again  able  to  repel 
it,  drew  them  secretly  off  from  the  ruin,  which  he  aban- 
doned entirely,  and  took  refuge  among  the  rocks  at  the  head 
of  the  ravine. 

It  was  then, — while,  unconscious  of  the  sudden  evacua- 
tion of  the  hovel,  but  not  doubting  they  had  driven  the 
defenders  into  its  interior,  the  enemy  poured  in  half  a 
dozen  or  more  volleys,  as  preliminaries  to  the  assault  which 
the  soldier  apprehended, — that  he  turned  to  the  unlucky 
Ealph ;  and  arresting  him  as  he  was  about  to  fire  upon  the 
foe  from  his  new  cover,  demanded,  with  much  agitation, 
if  it  were  not  possible  to  transport  the  hapless  females  in 
the  little  canoe,  which  his  mind  had  often  reverted  to  as 
a  probable  means  of  escape,  to  a  place  of  safety. 

"'Tarnal  death  to  me,"  said  Ealph,  "thar's  a  boiling 
pot  above  and  a  boiling  pot  below;  but  arn't  I  the  crittur 
to  shake  old  Salt  by  the  f  o'-paw  ?  Can  take  anngellif erous 
madam  down  ar5  a  shoot  that  war  ever  seed  \" 

"And  why,  in  heaven's  name,"  cried  the  Virginian,  "did 
you  not  say  so  before,  and  relieve  her  from  this  horrible 
situation  ?" 

"'Tarnal  death  to  me,  arn't  I  to  do  her  fighting  first?" 
demanded  the  honest  Balph.  "Jist  let's  have  another  crack 
at  the  villains,  jist  for  madam's  satisfaction;  and  then, 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

sodger,  if  you're  for  taking  the  shoot,  I'm  jist  the  salmon 
to  show  you  the  way.  But  I  say,  sodger,  I  won't  lie/'  he 
continued,  finding  Roland  was  bent  upon  instant  escape, 
while  the  savages  were  yet  unaware  of  their  flight  from  the 
hovel — "I  won't  lie,  sodger;  thar's  rather  a  small  trough 
to  hold  madam  and  the  gal,  and  me  and  you  and  the  niggur 
and  the  white  man;" — (Stackpole  was  already  acquainted 
with  the  number  of  the  party) — "and  as  for  the  bosses, 
'twill  be  all  crucifixion  to  git  'em  through  old  Salt's  fingers." 

"Think  not  of  horses,  nor  of  us,"  said  Eoland.  "Save 
but  the  women,  and  it  will  be  enough.  For  the  rest  of  us, 
we  will  do  our  best.  We  can  keep  the  hollow  till  we  are 
relieved;  for,  if  Nathan  be  alive,  relief  must  be  now  on 
the  way."  And  in  a  few  hurried  words,  he  acquainted 
Stackpole  with  his  having  despatched  the  man  of  peace  to 
seek  assistance. 

"Thar's  no  trusting  the  crittur,  Bloody  Nathan,"  said 
Ealph;  "though  at  a  close  hug,  a  squeeze  on  the  small  ribs, 
or  a  kick-up  of  heels,  he's  all  splendiferous.  Afore  you, 
see  his  ugly  pictur'  ag'in,  'tarnal  death  to  me,  strannger, 
you'll  be  devoured; — the  red  niggurs  thar  won't  make  two 
bites  of  you.  No,  sodger — if  we  run,  we  run,  thar's  the 
principle;  we  takes  the  water,  the  whole  herd  together, 
niggurs,  bosses,  and  all,  partickelarly  the  bosses;  for, 
'tarnal  death  to  me,  it's  ag'n  my  conscience  to  leave  so 
much  as  a  hoof.  And  so,  sodger,  if  you  conscientiously 
thinks  thar  has  been  walloping  enough  done  on  both  sides, 
I'm  jist  the  man  to  help  you  all  out  of  the  bobbery ;  though, 
cuss  me,  you  might  as  well  have  cut  me  out  of  the  beech 
without  so  much  hard  axing !" 

These  words  of  the  worthy  horse-thief,  uttered  as  hur- 
riedly as  his  own,  but  far  more  coolly,  animated  the  spirits 
of  the  young  soldier  with  double  hope;  and,  taking  ad- 
vantage of  the  busy  intentness  with  which  the  enemy  still 
poured  their  fire  into  the  ruin,  he  despatched  Ralph  down 
the  ravine  to  prepare  the  canoe  for  the  women,  while  he 
himself  summoned  Dodge  and  Emperor  to  make  an  effort 
for  their  own  deliverance. 


NICK    OF   THE    WOODS. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

For  what  obscured  light  the  heavens  did  grant, 
Did  but  convey  unto  our  fearful  minds 
A  doubtful  warrant  of  immediate  death. 

— Comedy  of  Errors. 

THE  roar  of  the  river,  alternating  with  peals  of  thunder, 
which  were  now  loud  and  frequent,  awoke  many  an  anxious 
pang  in  Roland's  bosom,  as  he  lifted  his  half  unconscious 
kinswoman  from  the  earth,  and  bore  her  to  the  canoe;  but 
his  anxiety  was  much  more  increased,  when  he  came  to 
survey  the  little  vessel  itself,  which  was  scarce  twelve  feet 
in  length,  and  seemed  ill  fitted  to  sustain  the  weight  of 
even  half  the  party.  It  was,  besides,  of  the  clumsiest  and 
worst  possible  figure,  a  mere  log,  in  fact,  roughly  hollowed 
out,  without  any  attempt  having  been  made  to  point  its 
extremities ;  so  that  it  looked  less  like  a  canoe  than  an  ox- 
trough;  which  latter  purpose  it  was  perhaps  designed 
chiefly  to  serve,  and  intended  to  be  used  for  the  former  only 
when  an  occasional  rise  of  the  waters  might  make  a  canoe 
necessary  to  the  convenience  of  the  maker.  Such  a  vessel 
managed  by  a  skilful  hand  might  indeed  bear  the  two  fe- 
males, with  honest  Ralph,  through  the  foaming  rapids  be- 
low; but  Roland  felt  that  to  burthen  it  with  others  would 
be  to  insure  the  destruction  of  all. 

He  resolved,  therefore,  that  no  others  should  enter  it; 
and  having  deposited  Telie  Doe  in  it  by  the  side  of  Edith, 
he  directed  Dodge  and  Emperor  to  mount  their  horses,  and 
trust  to  their  strength  and  courage  for  a  safe  escape.  To 
Emperor,  whatever  distaste  he  might  have  for  the  adven- 
ture, this  was  an  order,  like  all  others,  to  be  obeyed  with- 
out murmuring;  and,  fortunately,  Pardon  Dodge's  human- 
ity, or  his  discretion,  was  so  strongly  fortified  by  his  con- 
fidence in  the  swimming  virtues  of  his  steed,  that  he  very 
readily  agreed  to  try  his  fortune  on  horseback. 

"Any  thing  to  git  round  them  everlasting  varmint— 


176  NICK   OF   TltE   WOODS. 

though  it  a'n't  no  sich  great  circumstance  to  fight  'em 
neither,  where  one's  a  kinder  got  one's  hand  in,"  he  cried, 
with  quite  a  joyous  voice ;  and  added,  as  if  to  encourage  the 
others — "it's  my  idea,  that,  if  such  an  old  crazy  boat  can 
swim  the  river,  a  hoss  can  do  it  a  mortal  heap  better." 

"'Tarnal  death  to  me,"  said  Ralph  Stackpole,  "them's 
got  the  grit  that'll  go  down  old  Salt  on  horseback !  But 
it's  all  for  the  good  of  anngelliferous  madam;  and  so,  if 
thar's  any  hard  rubbing,  or  drowning,  or  any  thing  of  that 
synonimous  natur',  to  happen,  it  arn't  a  thing  to  be  helped 
no  how.  But  hand  in  the  guns  and  speechifiers,  and  make 
ready  for  a  go ;  for,  'tarnal  death  to  me?  the  abbregynes  ar5 
making  a  rush  for  the  cabin." 

There  was  indeed  little  time  left  for  deliberation.  While 
Ealph  was  yet  speaking,  a  dozen  or  more  flaming  brands 
were  suddenly  seen  flung  into  the  air,  as  if  against  the 
broken  roof  of  the  cabin,  through  which  they  fell  into  the 
interior;  and,  with  a  tremendous  whoop,  the  savages,  thus 
lighting  the  way  to  the  assault,  rushed  against  their  fancied 
prey.  The  next  moment  there  was  heard  a  yell  of  disap- 
pointed rage  and  wonder,  followed  by  a  rush  of  men  into 
the  ravine. 

"Now,  sodger,"  cried  Kalph,  "stick  close  to  the  trough; 
and  if  you  ever  seed  etarnity  at  midnight,  you'll  see  a 
small  sample  now!" 

With  that  he  pushed  the  canoe  into  the  stream,  and  Ro- 
land, urging  his  terrified  steed  with  voice  and  spur,  and 
leading  his  cousin's  equally  alarmed  palfrey,  leaped  in 
after  him,  calling  to  Dodge  and  Emperor  to  follow.  But 
how  they  followed,  or  whether  they  followed  at  all,  it  was 
not  easy  at  that  moment  to  determine ;  for  a  bright  flash  of 
lightning,  glaring  over  the  river,  vanished  suddenly,  leav- 
ing all  in  double  darkness,  and  the  impetuous  rush  of  the 
current  whirled  him  he  knew  not  whither,  while  the  crash 
of  the  thunder  that  followed,  prevented  his  hearing  any 
other  noise,  save  the  increasing  and  never  absent  roar  of 
the  waters. 

Another  flash  illuminated  the  scene,   and   during  its 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

short-lived  radiance  he  perceived  himself  flying,  as  it  al- 
most seemed,  through  the  water,  borne  along  by  a  furious 
current  betwixt  what  appeared  to  him  two  lofty  walls  of 
crag  and  forest,  towards  those  obstructions  in  the  channel, 
which,  in  times  of  flood,  converted  the  whole  river  into  a 
boiling  caldron.  They  were  masses  of  rock,  among  which 
had  lodged  rafts  of  drift  timber,  forming  a  dam  or  barrier 
on  either  side  of  the  river,  from  which  the  descending 
floods  were  whirled  into  a  central  channel,  ample  enough  in 
the  dry  season  to  discharge  the  waters  in  quiet,  but  through 
which  they  were  now  driven  with  all  the  hurry  and  rage 
of  a  torrent. 

The  scene,  viewed  in  the  momentary  glare  of  the  light- 
ning, was  indeed  terrific;  the  dark  and  rugged  walls  on 
either  side,  the  ramparts  of  timber  of  every  shape  and 
size,  from  the  little  willow  sapling  to  the  full  grown  syca- 
more, piled  high  above  the  rocks,  and  the  rushing  gulf 
betwixt  them,  made  up  a  spectacle  sufficient  to  appal  the 
stoutest  heart;  and  Eoland  gasped  for  breath,  as  he  beheld 
the  little  canoe  whirl  into  the  narrow  chasm,  and  then 
vanish,  even  before  the  light  was  over,  as  if  swallowed  up 
in  its  boiling  vortex. 

But  there  was  little  time  for  fear  or  conjecture.  He  cast 
the  rein  of  the  palfrey  from  his  hand,  directed  Briareus's 
head  towards  the  abyss,  and  the  next  moment,  sweeping  in 
darkness,  and  with  the  speed  of  an  arrow,  betwixt  the 
barriers,  he  felt  his  charger  swimming  beneath  him  in 
comparatively  tranquil  waters.  Another  flash  illumined 
hill  and  river,  and  he  beheld  the  little  canoe  dancing  along 
in  safety,  scarce  fifty  yards  in  advance,  with  Stackpole 
waving  the  tattered  fragments  of  his  hat  aloft,  and  yelling 
out  a  note  of  triumph. 

But  the  lusty  hurrah  was  unheard  by  the  soldier.  A 
more  dreadful  sound  came  to  his  ears  from  behind,  in  a 
shriek  that  seemed  uttered  by  the  combined  voices  of  men 
and  horses,  and  was  heard  even  above  the  din  of  the  tor- 
rent. But  it  was  momentary  as  dreadful,  as  if  a  cry  of 
agony  that  was  soon  over.  Its  fatal  cause  was  soon  ex- 


178  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

hibited,  when  Roland,  awakened  by  the  sound  from  the 
trance  which  during  the  brief  moment  of  his  passage 
through  the  abyss,  had  chained  his  faculties,  turned,  by  a 
violent  jerk,  the  head  of  his  charger  up  the  stream,  in 
the  instinctive  effort  to  render  assistance  to  his  less  for- 
tunate followers. 

A  fainter  flash  than  before  played  upon  the  waters,  and 
he  beheld  two  or  three  dark  masses,  like  the  bodies  of 
horses,  hurried  by  among  the  waves,  whilst  another  of 
lesser  bulk  and  human  form  suddenly  rose  from  the  depth 
of  the  stream  at  his  side.  This  he  instantly  grasped  in 
his  hand,  and  dragged  half  across  his  saddle-bow,  when  a 
broken,  strangling  exclamation,  "Lor-ra-g — g — gor !" 
made  him  aware  that  he  had  saved  the  life  of  the  faithful 
Emperor. 

"Clutch  fast  to  the  saddle,"  he  cried,  and  the  negro 
obeying  with  another  ejaculation,  the  soldier  turned  Briar- 
eus  again  down  the  stream,  to  look  for  the  canoe.  But 
almost  immediately  his  charger  struck  the  ground;  and 
Roland,  to  his  inexpressible  joy,  found  himself  landed  on 
a  projecting  bank,  on  which  the  current  had  already  swept 
the  canoe,  with  its  precious  freight  unharmed. 

"If  that  arn't  equal  to  coming  down  a  strick  of  light- 
ning," cried  Roaring  Ralph,  as  he  helped  the  soldier  from 
the  water,  "thar's  no  legs  to  a  jumping  bull-frog !  Smash 
away,  old  Salt!"  he  continued,  apostrophizing,  with  great 
exultation  and  self-admiration,  the  river  whose  terrors  he 
had  thus  so  successfully  defied ;  "arn't  I  the  gentleman  for 
you?  Roar  as  much  as  you  cussed  please;  when  it  comes 
to  righting  for  anngelliferous  madam,  I  can  lick  you,  old 
Salt,  'tarnal  death  to  me !  And  so,  anngelliferous  madam, 
don't  you  car'  a  copper  for  the  old  crittur;  for  thar's 
more  in  his  bark  than  his  bite.  And  as  for  the  abbregynes, 
if  I've  fou't  'em  enough  for  your  satisfaction,  we'll  jist 
say  good-by  to  'em,  and  leave  'em  to  take  the  scalp  off  old 
Salt." 

The  consolation  thus  offered  by  the  worthy  captain  of 
horse-thieves  was  lost  upon  Edith,  who,  locked  in  the  arms 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

of  her  kinsman,  and  sensible  of  her  escape  from  the  horrid 
danger  that  had  so  long  surrounded  her,  sensible  also  of 
the  peril  from  which  he  had  just  been  released,  wept  her 
terrors  away  upon  his  breast,  and  for  a  moment  almost  for- 
got that  her  sufferings  were  not  yet  over. 

It  was  only  for  an  instant  that  the  young  soldier  indulged 
his  joy.  He  breathed  a  few  words  of  comfort  and  en- 
couragement, and  then  turned  to  inquire  after  Dodge, 
whose  gallant  bearing  in  the  hour  of  danger  had  con- 
quered the  disgust  he  first  felt  at  his  cowardice,  and  won 
upon  his  gratitude  and  respect.  But  the  Yankee  appeared 
not,  and  the  loud  calls  Roland  made  for  him  were  echoed 
only  by  the  hoarse  roar  from  the  barriers,  now  left  far  be- 
hind, and  the  thunder  that  yet  pealed  through  the  sky. 
Nor  could  Emperor,  when  restored  a  little  to  his  wits, 
which  had  been  greatly  disturbed  by  his  own  perils  in  the 
river,  give  any  satisfactory  account  of  his  fate.  He  could 
only  remember  that  the  current  had  borne  himself  against 
the  logs,  under  which  he  had  been  swept,  and  whirled  he 
knew  not  whither,  until  he  found  himself  in  the  arms  of 
his  master;  and  Dodge,  who  had  rushed  before  him  into 
the  flood,  he  supposed  had  met  a  similar  fate,  but  without 
the  happy  termination  that  marked  his  own. 

That  the  Yankee  had  indeed  found  his  death  among  the 
roaring  waters,  Roland  could  well  believe,  the  wonder  only 
being  how  the  rest  had  escaped  in  safety.  Of  the  five 
horses,  three  only  had  reached  the  bank,  Briareus  and  the 
palfrey,  which  had  fortunately  followed  Roland  down  the 
middle  of  the  chasm,  and  the  horse  of  the  unlucky  Pardon. 
The  others  had  been  either  drowned  among  the  logs,  or 
swept  down  the  stream. 

A  few  minutes  sufficed  to  acquaint  Roland  with  these 
several  losses,  but  he  took  little  time  to  lament  them.  The 
deliverance  of  his  party  was  not  yet  wholly  effected,  and 
every  moment  was  to  be  improved,  to  put  it,  before  day- 
light, beyond  the  reach  of  pursuit.  The  captain  of  horse- 
thieves  avouched  himself  able  to  lead  the  way  from  the 
wilderness,  to  conduct  the  travellers  to  a  safe  ford  below, 


180  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

and  thence,  through  the  woods,  to  the  rendezvous  of  the 
emigrants. 

"Let  it  be  any  where,"  said  Roland,  "where  there  is 
safety;  and  let  us  not  delay  a  moment  longer.  Our  re- 
maining here  can  avail  nothing  to  poor  Dodge." 

With  these  words  he  assisted  his  kinswoman  upon  her 
palfrey,  placed  Telie  Doe  upon  the  horse  of  the  unfor- 
tunate Yankee,  and  giving  up  his  own  Briareus  to  the  ex- 
hausted negro,  prepared  to  resume  his  ill-starred  journey 
on  foot.  Then  taking  post  on  the  rear,  he  gave  the 
signal  to  his  new  guide,  and  once  more  the  travellers  were 
buried  in  the  intricacies  of  the  forest. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Then   altogether 
They  fell  upon  me,  bound  me,   bore  me  thence. 

— Comedy  of  Errors. 

IT  was  at  a  critical  period  when  the  travellers  effected 
their  escape  from  the  scene  of  their  late  sufferings.  The 
morning  was  already  drawing  nigh,  and  might,  but  for  the 
heavy  clouds  that  prolonged  the  night  of  terror,  have  been 
seen  shooting  its  first  streaks  through  the  eastern  skies. 
Another  half  hour,  if  for  that  half  hour  they  could  have 
maintained  their  position  in  the  ravine,  would  have  seen 
them  exposed  in  all  their  helplessness  to  the  gaze  and  to 
*  the  fire  of  the  determined  foe.  It  became  them  to  improve 
the  few  remaining  moments  of  darkness,  and  to  make  such 
exertions  as  might  put  them,  before  dawn,  beyond  the 
reach  of  discovery  or  pursuit. 

Exertions  were  accordingly  made,  and,  although  man 
and  horse  were  alike  exhausted,  and  the  thick  brakes  and 
oozy  swamps  through  which  Roaring  Ralph  led  the  way, 
opposed  a  thousand  obstructions  to  rapid  motion,  they 
had  left  the  fatal  ruin  at  least  two  miles  behind  them,  or 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

so  honest  Stackpole  averred,  when  the  day  at  last  broke 
over  the  forest.  To  add  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  fugi- 
tives,, it  broke  in  unexpected  splendor.  The  clouds  parted, 
and  as  the  floating  masses  rolled  lazily  away  before  a  pleas- 
ant morning  breeze,  they  were  seen  lighted  up  and  tinted 
with  a  thousand  glorious  dyes  of  sunshine. 

The  appearance  of  the  great  luminary  was  hailed  with 
joy,  as  the  omen  of  a  happier  fate  than  had  been  heralded 
by  the  clouds  and  storms  of  evening.  Smiles  began  to 
beam  from  the  haggard  and  care-worn  visages  of  the 
travellers ;  the  very  horses  seemed  to  feel  the  inspiring  in- 
fluence of  the  change ;  and  as  for  Eoaring  Ealph,  the  sight 
of  his  beautiful  benefactress  recovering  her  good  looks, 
and  the  exulting  consciousness  that  it  was  his  hand  which 
had  snatched  her  from  misery  and  death,  produced  such 
a  fever  of  delight  in  his  brain  as  was  only  to  be  allayed 
by  the  most  extravagant  expressions  and  actions.  He  as- 
sured her  a  dozen  times  over,  "he  was  her  dog  and  her 
slave,"  and  vowed  he  would  "hunt  her  so  many  Injun 
scalps,  and  steal  her  such  a  'tarnal  chance  of  Shawnee 
bosses,  thar  shouldn't  be  a  gal  in  all  Kentucky  should  come 
up  to  her  for  stock  and  glory;"  and,  finally,  not  content 
with  making  a  thousand  other  promises  of  an  equally  ex- 
travagant character,  and  swearing,  "that,  if  she  axed  it,  he 
would  go  down  on  his  knees,  and  say  his  prayers  to  her," 
he  offered,  as  soon  as  he  had  carried  her  safely  across  the 
river,  to  "take  the  back-track,  and  lick,  single-handed,  all 
the  Injun  abbregynes  that  might  be  following." 

Indeed,  to  such  a  pitch  did  his  enthusiasm  run,  that, 
not  knowing  how  otherwise  to  give  vent  to  his  overcharged 
feelings,  he  suddenly  turned  upon  his  heel,  and  shaking  his 
fist  in  the  direction  whence  he  had  come,  as  if  against  the 
enemy  who  had  caused  his  benefactress  so  much  distress,  he 
pronounced  a  formal  and  emphatic  curse  upon  their  whole 
race  "from  the  head-chief  to  the  commoner,  from  the 
whiskey-soaking  warrior  down  to  the  pan-licking  squall-a- 
baby,"  all  of  whom  he  anathematized  with  as  much  origi- 
nality as  fervor  of  expression ;  after  which  he  proceeded  with 


182  KICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

more  sedateness  to  resume  his  post  at  the  head  of  the 
travellers,  and  conduct  them  onwards  on  their  way. 

Another  hour  was  now  consumed  in  diving  amid  cane- 
brakes  and  swamps,,  to  which  Roaring  Ralph  evinced  a  de- 
cidedly greater  partiality  than  to  the  open  forest,  in  which 
the  travellers  had  found  themselves  at  the  dawn;  and  in 
this  he  seemed  to  show  somewhat  more  of  judgment  and 
discretion  than  would  have  been  argued  from  his  hair- 
brained  conversation;  for  the  danger  of  stumbling  upon 
scouting  Indians,  of  which  the  country  now  seemed 
so  full,  was  manifestly  greater  in  the  open  woods  than 
in  the  dark  and  almost  unfrequented  cane-brakes;  and  the 
worthy  horse-thief,  with  all  his  apparent  love  of  fight, 
was  not  at  all  anxious  that  the  angel  of  his  worship  should 
be  alarmed  or  endangered,  while  entrusted  to  his  zealous 
safe  keeping. 

But  it  happened  in  this  case,  as  it  has  happened  with 
better  and  wiser  men,  that  Stackpole's  cunning  overreached 
itself,  as  was  fully  shown  in  the  event ;  and  it  would  have 
been  happier  for  himself  and  all,  if  his  discretion,  instead 
of  plunging  him  among  difficult  and  almost  impassable 
bogs,  where  a  precious  hour  was  wasted  in  effecting  a  mere 
temporary  security  and  concealment  from  observation,  had 
taught  him  the  necessity  of  pushing  onwards  with  all  pos- 
sible speed,  so  as  to  leave  pursuers,  if  pursuit  should  be 
attempted,  far  behind. 

At  the  expiration  of  that  hour,  so  injudiciously  wasted, 
the  fugitives  issued  from  the  brake,  and  stepping  into  a 
narrow  path,  worn  by  the  feet  of  bisons,  among  stunted 
shrubs  and  parched  grasses,  along  the  face  of  a  limestone 
hill,  sparingly  scattered  over  with  a  similar  barren  growth, 
began  to  wind  their  way  downward  into  a  hollow  vale,  in 
which  they  could  hear  the  murmurs,  and  perceive  the 
glimmering  waters  of  the  river  over  which  they  seemed 
never  destined  to  pass. 

"Thar,  'tarnal  death  to  me !"  roared  Ralph,  pointing 
downwards  with  triumph,  "arn't  that  old  Salt  now,  look- 
ing as  sweet  and  liquorish  as  a  whole  troughful  of  sugar- 


NICK   OP   THE   WOODS.  183 

tree  ?  We'll  jist  take  a  dip  at  him,  anngelliferous  madam, 
jist  to  wash  the  mud  off  our  shoes ;  and  then,  'tarnal  death 
to  me,  fawwell  to  old  Salt  and  the  abbregynes  together — 
cock-a-doodle  doo !" 

With  this  comfortable  assurance,  and  such  encourage- 
ment as  he  could  convey  in  the  lustiest  gallicantation  ever 
fetched  from  lungs  of  man  or  fowl,  the  worthy  Stackpole, 
who  had  slackened  his  steps,  but  without  stopping  while 
he  spoke,  turned  his  face  again  to  the  descent ;  when,  as  if 
that  war-cry  had  conjured  up  enemies  from  the  very  air, 
a  rifle  bullet,  shot  from  a  bush  not  six  yards  off,  suddenly 
whizzed  through  his  hair,  scattering  a  handful  of  it  to 
the  winds;  and  while  a  dozen  more  were,  at  the  same  in- 
stant, poured  upon  ether  members  of  the  unfortunate 
party,  fourteen  or  fifteen  savages  rushed  out  from  their 
concealment  among  the  grass  and  bushes,  three  of  whom 
seized  upon  the  rein  of  the  unhappy  Edith,  while  twice 
as  many  sprang  upon  Captain  Forrester,  and,  before  he 
could  raise  an  arm  in  defence,  bore  him  to  the  earth,  a 
victim  or  a  prisoner. 

So  much  the  astounded  horse-thief  saw  with  his  own 
eyes;  but  before  he  could  make  good  any  of  the  number- 
less promises  he  had  volunteered  during  the  morning  jour- 
ney, of  killing  and  eating  the  whole  family  of  North  Amer- 
ican Indians,  or  exemplify  the  unutterable  gratitude  and 
devotion  he  had  as  often  professed  to  the  fair  Virginian, 
four  brawny  barbarians,  one  of  them  rising  at  his  side  and 
from  the  very  bush  whence  the  bullet  had  been  discharged 
at  his  head,  rushed  against  him,  flourishing  their  guns  and 
knives,  and  yelling  with  transport,  "Go,t  you  now,  Cappin 
Stackpole,  steal-hoss !  No  go  steal  no  hoss  no  more !  roast 
on  great  big  fire !" 

"'Tarnal  death  to  me!"  roared  Stackpole,  forgetting 
every  thing  else  in  the  instinct  of  self-preservation;  and 
firing  his  piece  at  the  nearest  enemy,  he  suddenly  leaped 
from  the  path  into  the  bushes  on  its  lower  side,  where  was 
a  precipitous  descent,  down  which  he  went  rolling  and 
crashing  with  a  velocity  almost  equal  to  that  of  the  bullets 


184  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

that  were  sent  after  him.  Three  of  the  four  assailants 
immediately  darted  after  in  pursuit,  and  their  shouts  grow- 
ing fainter  and  fainter  as  they  descended,  were  mingled 
with  the  loud  yell  of  victory,  now  uttered  by  a  dozen  savage 
voices  from  the  hillside. 

It  was  a  victory,  indeed,  in  every  sense,  complete,  almost 
bloodless,  as  it  seemed  to  the  assailants,  and  effected  at  a 
moment  when  the  hopes  of  the  travellers  were  at  the  high- 
est; and  so  sudden  was  the  attack,  so  instantaneous  the 
change  from  freedom  to  captivity,  so  like  the  juggling 
transition  of  a  dream  the  whole  catastrophe,  that  Forrester, 
although  overthrown  and  bleeding  from  two  severe  wounds 
received  at  the  first  fire,  and  wholly  in  the  power  of  his 
enemies,  who  flourished  their  knives  and  axes  in  his  face, 
yelling  with  exultation,  could  scarce  appreciate  his  situa- 
tion, or  understand  what  dreadful  misadventure  had  hap- 
pened, until  his  eye,  wandering  among  the  dusky  arms  that 
grappled  him,  fell  first  upon  the  body  of  the  negro  Em- 
peror, hard  by,  gored  by  numberless  wounds,  and  trampled 
by  the  feet  of  his  slayers,  and  then  upon  the  apparition,  a 
thousand  times  more  dismal  to  his  eyes,  of  his  kinswoman 
snatched  from  her  horse  and  struggling  in  the  arms  of  her 
savage  captors. 

The  frensy  with  which  he  was  seized  at  this  lamentable 
sight  endowed  him  with  a  giant's  strength ;  but  it  was  ex- 
erted in  vain  to  free  himself  from  his  enemies,  all  of  whom 
seemed  to  experience  a  barbarous  delight  at  his  struggles, 
some  encouraging  him  with  loud  laughter,  and  in  broken 
English,  to  continue  them,  while  others  taunted  and 
scolded  at  him  more  like  shrewish  squaws  than  valiant 
warriors,  assuring  him  that  they  were  great  Shawnee  fight- 
ing-men, and  he  a  little  long-knife  dog,  entirely  beneath 
their  notice;  which  expressions,  though  at  variance  with 
all  his  pre-conceived  notions  of  the  stern  gravity  of  the 
Indian  character,  and  rather  indicative  of  a  roughly  jocose 
than  a  darkly  ferocious  spirit,  did  not  prevent  their  taking 
the  surest  means  to  quiet  his  exertions  and  secure  their 
prize,  by  tying  his  hands  behind  him  with  a  thong  of 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  185 

buffalo  hide,  drawn  so  tight  as  to  inflict  the  most  ex- 
cruciating pain. 

But  pain  of  body  was  then,  and  for  many  moments  after, 
lost  in  agony  of  mind,  which  could  be  conceived  only  by 
him  who,  like  the  young  soldier,  has  been  doomed,  once  in 
his  life,  to  see  a  tender  female,  the  nearest  and  dearest  ob- 
ject of  his  affections,  in  the  hands  of  enemies,  the  most 
heartless,  merciless,  and  brutal  of  all  the  races  of  men.  He 
saw  her  pale  visage  convulsed  with  terror  and  despair — 
he  beheld  her  arm  stretched  towards  him,  as  if  beseeching 
the  help  he  no  longer  had  the  power  to  render — and  ex- 
pected every  instant  the  fall  of  the  hatchet,  or  the  flash  of 
the  knife  that  was  to  pour  her  blood  upon  the  earth  before 
him. 

He  would  have  called  upon  the  wretches  around  for  pity, 
but  his  tongue  clove  to  his  mouth,  his  brain  spun  round; 
and  such  became  the  intensity  of  his  feeling,  that  he  was 
suddenly  bereft  of  sense,  and  fell  like  a  dead  man  to  the 
earth,  where  he  lay  for  a  time,  ignorant  of  all  events  pass- 
ing around,  ignorant  also  of  the  duration  of  his  insensi- 
bility. 


CHAPTEK  XIX. 

There    the    still-varying    pangs,    which    multiply 
Until   their  very  number   makes  men  hard 
By  the  infinities  of  agony, 

Which  meet  the  gaze,  whatever  it  may  regard — 
The  groan,  the  roll  in  dust,  the  all-white  eye 
Turn'd  back  within  its  socket! 

-—Don  Juan. 

WHEN"  the  soldier  recovered  his  senses,  it  was  to  wonder 
again  at  the  change  that  had  come  over  the  scene.  The 
loud  yells,  the  bitter  taunts,  the  mocking  laughs,  were 
heard  no  more ;  and  nothing  broke  the  silence  of  the  wilder- 
ness, save  the  stir  of  the  leaf  in  the  breeze,  and  the  ripple 
of  the  river  against  its  pebbly  banks  below.  He  glanced  a 
moment  from  the  busli  in  which  he  was  lying,  in  search  of 


186  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

the  barbarians  who  had  lately  covered  the  slope  of  the  hill, 
but  all  had  vanished;  captor  and  captive  alike  had  fled; 
and  the  sparrow  twittering  among  the  stunted  bushes,  and 
the  grasshopper  singing  in  the  grass,  were  the  only  living 
objects  to  be  seen.  The  thong  was  still  upon  his  wrists, 
and  as  he  felt  it  rankling  in  his  flesh,  he  almost  believed 
his  savage  captors,  with  a  refinement  in  cruelty  the  more 
remarkable  as  it  must  have  robbed  them  of  the  sight  of 
his  dying  agonies,  had  left  him  thus  bound  and  wounded, 
to  perish  miserably  in  the  wilderness  alone. 

This  suspicion  was,  however,  soon  driven  from  his  mind ; 
for,  making  an  effort  to  rise  from  his  feet,  he  found  him- 
self suddenly  withheld  by  a  powerful  grasp,  while  a  gut- 
tural voice  muttered  in  his  ear  from  behind,  with  accents 
half  angry,  half  exultant, — "Long-knife  no  move; — see 
how  Piankeshaw  kill  Long-knife's  brudders! — Piankeshaw 
great  fighting  man  I"  He  turned  his  face  with  difficulty, 
and  saw,  crouching  among  the  leaves  behind  him,  a  grim 
old  warrior  plentifully  bedaubed  over  head  and  breast  with 
the  scarlet  clay  of  his  native  Wabash,  his  dark  shining 
eyes  bent  now  upon  the  rifle  which  he  held  extended  over 
Roland's  body,  now  turned  upon  Roland  himself,  whom 
he  seemed  to  watch  over  with  a  miser's,  or  a  wildcat's 
affection,  and  now  wandering  away  up  the  stony  path 
along  the  hillside,  as  if  in  expectation  of  the  coming  of 
an  object  dearer  even  than  rifle  or  captive  to  his  imagina- 
tion. 

In  the  confused  and  distracted  state  of  his  mind,  Ro- 
land was  as  little  able  to  understand  the  expressions  of  the 
warrior,  as  to  account  for  the  disappearance  of  his  mur- 
derous associates;  and  he  would  have  marvelled  for  what 
purpose  he  was  thus  concealed  among  the  bushes  with  his 
grim  companion,  had  not  his  whole  soul  been  too  busily 
and  painfully  occupied  with  the  thoughts  of  his  vanished 
Edith.  He  strove  to  ask  the  wild  barbarian  of  her  fate, 
but  the  latter  motioned  him  fiercely  to  keep  silence;  and 
the  motion  and  the  savage  look  that  accompanied  it  being 
disregarded,  the  Indian  drew  a  long  knife  from  his  belt, 


NICK    OP    THE    WOODS. 

and  pressing  the  point  on  Koland's  throat,  muttered  too 
sternly  and  emphatically  to  be  misconceived — "Long-knife 
speak,  Long-knife  die !  Piankeshaw  fight  Long-knife's 
brudders — Piankeshaw  great  fighting  man!"  from  which 
all  that  Koland  could  understand  was  that  there  was  mis- 
chief of  some  kind  still  in  the  wind,  and  that  he  was  com- 
manded to  preserve  silence  on  the  peril  of  his  life.  What 
.that  mischief  could  be  he  was  unable  to  divine;  but  he  was 
not  kept  long  in  ignorance. 

As  he  lay  upon  the  ground,  his  cheek  pillowed  upon  a 
stone  which  accident,  or  perhaps  the  humanity  of  the  old 
warrior,  had  placed  under  his  head,  he  could  distinguish  a 
hollow,  pattering,  distant  sound,  in  which,  at  first  mis- 
taken for  the  murmuring  of  the  river  over  some  rocky 
ledge,  and  then  for  the  clatter  of  wild  beasts  approaching 
over  the  rocky  hill,  his  practiced  ear  soon  detected  the 
trampling  of  a  body  of  horse,  evidently  winding  their  way 
along  the  stony  road  which  had  conducted  him  to  captivity, 
and  from  which  he  was  but  a  few  paces  removed. 

His  heart  thrilled  within  him.  Was  it,  could  it  be,  a 
band  of  gallant  Kentuckians,  in  pursuit  of  the  bold  marau- 
ders, whose  presence  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  settle- 
ments had  been  already  made  known?  or  could  they  be 
(the  thrill  of  expectation  grew  to  transport  as  he  thought 
it)  his  fellow-emigrants  summoned  by  the  faithful  Nathan 
to  his  assistance,  and  now  straining  every  nerve  to  over- 
take the  savages,  whom  they  had  tracked  from  the  deserted 
ruin? 

He  could  now  account  for  the  disappearance  of  his  cap- 
tors, and  the  death-like  silence  that  surrounded  him.  Too 
vigilant  to  be  taken  unawares,  and  perhaps  long  since 
apprized  of  the  coming  of  the  band,  the  Indians  had  re- 
sumed their  hiding-places  in  the  grass  and  among  the 
bushes,  preparing  for  the  newcomers  an  ambuscade  similar 
to  that  they  had  so  successfully  practiced  against  Eoland's 
unfortunate  party. 

"Let  them  hide  as  they  will,  detestable  miscreants,"  he 
muttered  to  himself,,  with  feelings  of  vindictive  triumph; 


188  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"they  will  not,  this  time,  have  frighted  women,  and  a 
handful  of  dispirited  fugitives  to  deal  with !" 

With  these  feelings  burning  in  his  bosom,  he  made  an 
effort  to  turn  his  face  towards  the  top  of  the  hill,  that  he 
might  catch  the  first  sight  of  the  friendly  band,  and  glut 
his  eyes  with  the  view  of  the  anticipated  speedy  discomfi- 
ture and  destruction  of  his  enemies.  In  this  first  effort 
he  received  unexpected  aid  from  the  old  warrior,  who,  per- 
ceiving his  intention,  pulled  him  round  with  his  own  hands, 
telling  him,  with  the  grim  complacency  of  one  who  desired 
a  witness  to  his  bravery,  "Now,  you  hold  still,  you  see, — 
you  see  Piankeshaw  old  Injun, — you  see  Piankeshaw  kill 
man,  take  scalp,  kill  all  Long-knife: — debbil  great  fight- 
ing man,  old  Piankeshaw !"  which  self-admiring  assurance, 
repeated  for  the  third  time,  the  warrior  pronounced  with 
extreme  earnestness  and  emphasis. 

It  was  now  that  Eoland  could  distinctly  perceive  the 
nature  of  the  ground  on  which  his  captors  had  formed 
their  ambush.  The  hill  along  whose  side  the  bison- 
path  went  winding  down  to  the  river  with  an  easy  descent, 
was  nearly  bare  of  trees,  its  barren  soil  affording  nourish- 
ment only  for  a  coarse  grass,  enamelled  with  asters  and 
other  brilliant  flowers,  and  for  a  few  stunted  cedar-bushes, 
scattered  here  and  there;  while,  in  many  places  the  naked 
rock,  broken  into  ledges  and  gullies,  the  beds  of  occasional 
brooks,  was  seen  gleaming  grey  and  desolate  in  the  sun- 
shine. Its  surface  being  thus  broken,  was  unfit  for  the 
operations  of  cavalry ;  and  the  savages  being  posted  as  Eo- 
land judged  from  the  position  of  the  old  Piankeshaw,  mid- 
way along  the  descent,  where  were  but  few  trees  of  suffi- 
cient magnitude  to  serve  as  a  cover  to  assailants,  while 
they  themselves  were  concealed  behind  rocks  and  bushes, 
there  was  little  doubt  they  could  inflict  loss  upon  any  ad- 
vancing body  of  footmen  of  equal  numbers,  and  perhaps 
repel  them  altogether.  But  Eoland,  now  impressed  with 
the  belief  that  the  approaching  horsemen,  whose  trampling 
grew  heavier  each  moment,  as  if  they  were  advancing  at 
a.  full  trotj  composed  the  flower  of  his  own  baud,  had 


NICK    OF   THE    WOODS. 

little  fear  of  the  result  of  a  contest.  He  did  not  doubt 
they  would  outnumber  the  savages,  who,  he  thought,  could 
not  muster  more  than  fifteen  or  sixteen  guns ;  and,  coming 
from  a  station  which,  he  had  been  taught  to  believe,  was 
of  no  mean  strength,  it  was  more  than  probable  their  num- 
bers had  been  reinforced  by  a  detachment  from  its  garri- 
son. 

Such  were  his  thoughts,  such  were  his  hopes,  as  the 
party  drew  yet  nigher,  the  sound  of  their  hoofs  clattering 
at  last  on  the  ridge  of  the  hill ;  but  his  disappointment  may 
be  imagined,  when,  as  they  burst  at  last  on  his  sight,  emerg- 
ing from  the  woods  above,  the  gallant  party  dwindled  sud- 
denly into  a  troop  of  young  men,  only  eleven  in  number, 
who  rattled  along  the  path  in  greater  haste  than  order,  as 
if  dreaming  of  any  thing  in  the  world  but  the  proximity 
of  an  enemy.  The  leader  he  recognized  at  a  glance,  by 
his  tall  figure,  as  Tom  Bruce  the  younger,  whose  feats  of 
regulation  the  previous  day  had  produced  a  strong  though 
indirect  influence  on  his  own  fortunes;  and  the  ^en  lusty 
youths  who  followed  at  his  heels,  he  doubted  not,  made  up 
the  limb  and  body  of  that  inquisitorial  court,  which,  under 
him  as  its  head,  had  dispensed  so  liberal  allowance  of 
border  law  to  honest  Ealph  Stackpole. 

That  they  were  now  travelling  on  duty  of  a  similar 
kind,  he  was  strongly  inclined  to  believe;  but  the  appear- 
ance of  their  horses  covered  with  foam,  as  if  they  had 
ridden  far  and  fast,  their  rifles  in  readiness  in  both  hands, 
as  if  in  momentary  expectation  of  being  called  on  to  use 
them,  with  an  occasional  gesture  from  the  youthful  leader, 
who  seemed  to  encourage  them  to  greater  speed,  convinced 
him  they  were  bent  upon  more  serious  business,  perhaps  in 
pursuit  of  the  Indians  with  whose  marauding  visitation 
some  accident  had  made  them  acquainted. 

The  smallness  of  the  force,  and  its  almost  entire  incom- 
petence to  yield  him  any  relief,  filled  the  soldier's  breast 
with  despair;  but,  hopeless  as  he  was,  he  could  not  see 
the  gallant  young  men  rushing  blindly  among  the  savages, 
each  of  whose  rifles  was  already  selecting  its  victim,  with- 


190  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

out  making  an  effort  to  apprise  them  of  their  danger. 
Forgetting,  therefore,  his  own  situation,  or  generously  dis* 
regarding  it,  he  summoned  all  his  strength,  and,  as  they 
began  to  descend  the  hill,  shouted  aloud,  "Beware  the  am- 
bush! Halt " 

But  before  the  words  were  all  uttered,  he  was  grasped 
by  the  throat  with  strangling  violence,  and  the  old  warrior, 
whose  left  hand  thus  choked  his  utterance,  drew  his  knife 
a  second  time  with  the  other,  and  seemed  for  an  instant  as 
if  he  would  have  plunged  it  into  the  soldier's  bosom. 

But  the  cry  had  not  been  made  in  vain,  and  although, 
from  the  distance,  the  words  had  not  been  distinguished  by 
the  young  Kentuckians,  enough  was  heard  to  convince 
them  the  enemy  was  nigh  at  hand.  They  came  to  an  im- 
mediate halt,  and  Roland,  whose  throat  was  still  held  by 
the  warrior  and  his  bosom  threatened  by  the  vengeful  knife, 
but  whose  eyes  neither  the  anguish  of  suffocation  nor  the 
fear  of  instant  death  could  draw  from  the  little  band,  saw 
them  leap  from  their  horses,  which  were  given  in  charge  of 
one  of  the  number,  who  immediately  retired  beyond  the 
brow  of  the  hill ;  while  Tom  Bruce,  a  worthy  scion  of  a  war- 
like stock,  brandishing  his  rifle  in  one  hand,  and  with  the 
other  pointing  his  nine  remaining  followers  down  the  road, 
cried,  in  tones  so  clear  and  manly  that  they  came  to  Ro- 
land's ear, — "Now,  boys,  the  women's  down  tliar,  and  the 
red-skins  with  them!  Show  fight,  for  the  honor  of  Ken- 
tuck  and  the  love  of  woman.  Every  man  to  his  bush, 
and  every  bullet  to  its  Injun!  Bring  the  brutes  out  of 
their  cover !" 

This  speech,  short  and  homely  as  it  was,  was  answered 
by  a  loud  shout  from  the  nine  young  men,  who  began  to 
divide,  with  the  intention  of  obeying  its  simple  final  in- 
structions; when  the  Indians,  seeing  the  design,  unwilling 
to  forego  the  advantage  of  the  first  open  shot,  and  per- 
haps hoping  by  a  weak  fire  to  mask  their  strength,  and  de- 
coy the  young  Kentuckians  into  closer  quarters,  let  fly 
a  volley  of  six  or  seven  guns  from  the  bushes  near  to  wher^e 


NICK   OF    THE    WOODS. 

Roland  lay,  but  without  doing  much  mischief,  or  even  de- 
ceiving the  young  men,  as  was  exepected. 

"Thar  they  go,  the  brutes  \"  roared  Tom  Bruce,  adding, 
as  he  sprang  with  his  followers  among  the  bushes,  "show 
'em  your  noses,  and  keep  a  good  squint  over  your  elbows." 

"Long-knife  big  fool, — Piankeshaw  eat  him  up!"  cried 
the  old  warrior,  now  releasing  the  soldier's  throat  from* 
durance,  but  speaking  with  tones  of  ire  and  indignation: 
'"Shall  see  how  great  Injun  fighting-man  eat  up  white 
man !" 

With  these  words,  leaving  Eoland  to  endure  his  bonds, 
and  solace  himself  as  he  might,  he  crept  away  into  the 
long  grass,  and  was  soon  entirely  lost  to  sight. 

The  combat  that  now  ensued  was  one  so  different  in  most 
of  its  characteristics  from  all  that  Eoland  had  ever  before 
witnessed,  that  he  watched  its  progress,  notwithstanding 
the  tortures  of  his  bonds  and  the  fever  of  his  mind,  with 
an  interest  even  apart  from  that  which  he  necessarily  felt 
in  it,  as  one  whose  all  of  happiness  or  misery  depended 
upon  its  issue.  In  all  conflicts  in  which  he  had  been  en- 
gaged, the  adverse  ranks  were  arrayed  face  to  face,  looking 
upon  each  other  as  they  fought;  but  here,  no  man  saw  his 
enemy,  both  parties  concealing  themselves  so  effectually  in 
the  grass,  and  among  the  rocks  and  shrubs,  that  there  was 
nothing  to  indicate  even  their  existence,  save  the  occa- 
sional discharge  of  a  rifle,  and  the  wreath  of  white  smoke 
curling  up  from  it  into  the  air.  In  the  battles  of  regular 
soldiers,  too,  men  fought  in  masses,  the  chief  strength  of 
either  party  arising  from  the  support  which  individuals 
thus  gave  to  one  another,  each  deriving  additional  courage 
and  confidence  from  the  presence  of  his  fellows.  Here, 
on  the  contrary,  it  seemed  the  first  object  of  each  indi- 
vidual, whether  American  or  Indian,  to  separate  himself 
as  far  from  his  friends  as  possible,  seeking  his  own  enemies, 
trusting  to  his  own  resources,  carrying  on  the  war  on  his 
own  foundation — in  short,  like  the  enthusiastic  Jerseyman, 
who,  without  belonging  to  either  side,  was  found,  at  the 
battle  of  Monmouth,  peppering  away  from  behind  a  fence 


192  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

at  whatever  he  fancied  a  foeman — "fighting  on  his  own 
hook"  entirely. 

It  did  not  seem  to  Eoland  as  if  a  battle,  fought  upon 
such  principles,  could  result  in  any  great  injury  to  either 
party.  But  he  forgot,  or  rather  he  was  ignorant,  that  the 
separation  of  the  combatants,  while  effecting  the  best  pro- 
tection, not  merely  to  any  one  individual,  but  to  all  his 
comrades,  who  must  have  been  endangered,  if  near  him, 
by  every  bullet  aimed  at  himself,  did  not  imply  either  fear 
or  hesitation  on  his  part,  whose  object,  next  to  that  men- 
tioned, was  to  avoid  the  shots  of  the  many,  while  seeking 
out  and  approaching  a  single  antagonist,  whom  he  was 
ever  ready  singly  to  encounter. 

And  thus  it  happened  that,  while  Eoland  deemed  the 
antagonists  were  maneuvering  over  the  hillside,  dragging 
themselves  from  bush  to  bush  and  rock  to  rock,  to  no 
profitable  purpose,  they  were  actually  creeping  nigher  and 
nigher  to  each  other  every  moment;  the  savages  crawling 
onwards  with  the  exultation  of  men  who  felt  their  superior 
strength,  and  the  Kentuckians  advancing  with  equal  alac- 
rity, as  if  ignorant  of,  or  bravely  indifferent  to,  their  in- 
feriority. 

It  was  not  a  long  time,  indeed,  before  the  Virginian  be- 
gan to  have  a  better  opinion  of  the  intentions  of  the  re- 
spective parties;  for,  by  and  by,  the  shots,  which  were  at 
first  fired  very  irregularly  and  at  long  intervals,  became 
more  frequent,  and,  as  it  seemed,  more  serious;  and  an 
occasional  whoop  from  an  Indian,  or  a  wild  shout  from  a 
Kentuckian,  showed  that  the  excitement  of  actual  conflict 
was  beginning  to  be  felt  on  either  side.  At  the  same  time 
he  became  sensible,  from  the  direction  of  the  firing,  that 
both  parties  had  gradually  extended  themselves  in  a  line, 
reaching,  notwithstanding  the  smallness  of  their  numbers, 
from  the  crest  of  the  hill  on  the  one  hand,  to  the  borders 
of  the  river  on  the  other,  and  thus  perceived  that  the  gal- 
lant Regulators,  however  ignorant  of  the  science  of  war, 
and  borne  by  impetuous  tempers  into  a  contest  with  a  more 
numerous  foe,  were  not  in  the  mood  to  be  taken  either  on 


NICK    OF   THE   WOODS.  '193 

the  flank  or  rear,  but  were  resolved,  in  true  military  style, 
to  keep  their  antagonists  before  them. 

In  this  manner  the  conflict  continued  for  many  minutes, 
the  combatants  approaching  nearer  and  nearer,  the  excite- 
ment waxing  fiercer  every  instant,  until  shots  were  in- 
cessantly exchanged,  and,  as  it  seemed,  with  occasional  ef- 
fect; for  the  yells,  which  grew  louder  and  more  frequent 
on  both  sides,  were  sometimes  mingled  with  cries  of  pain  on 
the  one  hand,  and  shouts  of  triumph  on  the  other;  during 
all  which  time,  nothing  whatever  was  seen  of  the  com- 
batants, at  least  by  Eoland,  whose  mental  agonies  were  not 
a  little  increased  by  his  being  a  compelled  spectator,  if 
such  he  could  be  called,  of  a  battle  in  which  he  was  so 
deeply  interested,  without  possessing  the  power  to  mingle 
in  it,  or  strike  a  single  blow  on  his  own  behalf. 

His  fears  of  the  event  had  been,  from  the  first,  much 
stronger  than  his  hopes.  Aware  of  the  greatly  superior 
strength  of  the  savages,  he  did  not  doubt  that  the  moment 
would  come,  when  he  should  see  them  rush  in  a  body  upon 
the  Kentuckians,  and  overwhelm  them  with  numbers.  But 
that  was  a  measure  into  which  nothing  but  an  uncommon 
pitch  of  fury  could  have  driven  the  barbarians;  for  with 
marksmen  like  those  opposed  to  them,  who  needed  but  a 
glance  of  an  enemy  to  insure  his  instant  destruction,  the 
first  spring  from  the  grass  would  have  been  the  signal  of 
death  to  all  who  attempted  it,  leaving  the  survivors,  no 
longer  superior  in  numbers,  to  decide  the  contest  with 
men,  who  were,  individually,  in  courage,  strength,  and 
skill,  at  least  their  equals. 

Indeed,  a  bloody  proof  of  the  extreme  folly  of  such  a 
course  on  the  part  of  the  Indians  was  soon  shown,  when 
the  Regulators,  fighting  their  way  onwards,  as  if  wholly 
regardless  of  the  superior  numbers  of  the  foe,  had  ad- 
vanced so  nigh  the  latter  as  to  command  (which,  from 
occupying  the  highest  ground,  they  were  better  able  to  do) 
the  hiding-place  of  some  of  their  opponents.  Three  young 
warriors,  yielding  to  their  fury,  ashamed  perhaps  of  being 
thus  bearded  by  a  weaker  foe,  or  inflamed  with  the  hope  of 


KICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

securing  the  scalp  of  one  young  Kentuckian  who  had  crept 
dangerously  nigh,  suddenly  sprang  from  their  lairs,  and, 
guided  by  the  smoke  of  the  rifle  which  he  had  just  dis- 
charged, rushed  towards  the  spot,  yelling  with  vindictive 
exultation.  They  were  the  first  combatants  Eoland  had 
yet  seen  actually  engaged  in  the  conflict;  and  he  noted 
their  appearance  and  act  of  daring  with  a  sinking  heart,  as 
the  prelude  to  a  charge  from  the  whole  body  of  the  Indians 
upon  the  devoted  Kentuckians.  But  scarcely  were  their 
brown  bodies  seen  to  rise  from  the  grass,  before  three  rifles 
were  fired  from  as  many  points  on  the  hillside,  following 
each  other  in  such  rapid  succession,  that  the  ear  could 
scarce  distinguish  the  different  explosions,  each  of  them 
telling  with  fatal  effect  upon  the  rash  warriors,  two  of 
whom  fell  dead  on  the  spot,  while  the  third  and  foremost, 
uttering  a  faint  whoop  of  defiance,  and  making  an  effort 
to  throw  the  hatchet  he  held  in  his  hand,  suddenly  stag- 
gered and  fell  in  like  manner  to  the  earth. 

Loud  and  bold  was  the  shout  of  the  Kentuckians  at  this 
happy  stroke  of  success,  and  laughs  of  scorn  were  mingled 
with  their  warlike  hurrahs,  as  they  prepared  to  improve 
the  advantage  so  fortunately  gained.  Loudest  of  all,  in 
both  laugh  and  hurrah,  was  the  young  Tom  Bruce,  whose 
voice  was  heard,  scarce  sixty  yards  off,  roaring:  "Hurrah 
for  old  Kentuck!  Try  'em  agin,  boys!  give  it  to  'em 
handsome  once  more!  and  then,  boys,  a  rush  for  the  wo- 
men !" 

The  sound  of  a  friendly  voice  at  so  short  a  distance  fired 
Koland's  heart  with  hope,  and  he  shouted  aloud  himself,  no 
Indians  seeming  nigh,  for  assistance.  But  his  voice  wa^ 
lost  in  a  tempest  of  yells,  the  utterance  of  grief  and  fury, 
with  which  the  fall  of  their  three  companions  had  filled 
the  breasts  of  the  savages.  The  effect  of  this  fatal  loss, 
stirring  up  their  passions  to  a  sudden  frensy,  was  to  goad 
them  into  the  very  step  they  had  hitherto  so  wisely  avoided. 
All  sprang  from  the  ground  as  with  one  consent,  and,  re- 
gardless of  the  exposure  and  danger,  dashed,  with  hideous 
shouts,  against  the  Kentuckians.  But  the  volley  with 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

which  they  were  received,  each  Kentuckian  selecting  his 
man,  and  firing  with  unerring  and  merciless  aim,  damped 
their  short-lived  ardor ;  and  quickly  dropping  again  among 
the  grass  and  bushes,  they  were  fain  to  continue  the  com- 
bat as  they  had  begun  it,  in  a  way,  which,  if  it  produced 
less  injury  to  their  antagonists,  was  conducive  of  greater 
safety  to  themselves. 

The  firing  was  now  hot  and  incessant  on  both  sides, 
particularly  on  the  part  of  the  Regulators,  who,  inspired 
by  success,  but  still  prudently  avoiding  all  unnecessary  ex- 
posure of  their  persons,  pressed  their  enemies  with  a 
spirit  from  which  Eoland  now  for  the  first  time  drew  the 
happiest  auguries.  Their  stirring  hurrahs  bespoke  a  con- 
fidence in  the  result  of  the  fray,  infinitely  cheering  to  his 
spirits;  and  he  forgot  his  tortures,  which,  from  the  many 
frantic  struggles  he  had  made  to  force  the  thong  from  his 
wrists,  drawing  it  at  each  still  further  into  his  flesh,  were 
now  almost  insupportable,  when,  amid  the  din  of  firing 
and  yelling,  he  heard  Tom  Bruce  cry  aloud  to  his  com- 
panions, "Now,  boys!  one  more  crack,  and  then  for  the 
rifle-butt,  knife,  and  hatchet !" 

It  seemed,  indeed,  as  if  the  heavy  losses  the  Indians  had 
sustained  had  turned  the  scale  of  battle  entirely  in  favor 
of  the  Kentuckians.  It  was  evident,  even  to  Roland,  that 
the  former,  although  yelling  and  shouting  with  as  much 
apparent  vigor  as  ever,  were  gradually  giving  ground  before 
the  latter,  and  retreating  towards  their  former  lairs; 
while  he  could  as  clearly  perceive,  from  Bruce's  expressions, 
that  the  intrepid  Kentuckian  was  actually  preparing  to 
execute  the  very  measure  that  had  caused  such  loss  to  his 
enemies,  and  which,  being  thus  resolved  on,  showed  his 
confidence  of  victory. 

"Ready,  bo}rs!"  he  heard  him  shout  again,  and  even 
nigher  than  before — "take  the  shoot  with  full  pieces,  and 
let  the  skirmudgeons  have  it  handsome !" 

At  that  conjuncture,  and  just  when  Forrester  caught  his 
breath  with  intense  and  devouring  expectation,  an  incident 
occurred  which  entirely  changed  the  face  of  affairs,  and 


106  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

snatched  the  victory  from  the  hands  of  the  Kentuckians. 
The  gallant  Bruce,  thus  calling  upon  his  followers  to  pre- 
pare for  the  charge,  had  scarce  uttered  the  words  recorded, 
before  a  voice,  lustier  even  than  his  own,  bellowed  from  a 
bush  immediately  on  his  rear — "Take  it  like  a  butcher's 
bull-dog,  tooth  and  nail! — knife  and  skull-splitter,  foot 
and  finger,  give  it  to  'em  every  way — cock-a-doodle-doo  !" 

At  these  words,  coming  from  a  quarter  and  from  an 
ally  entirely  unexpected,  young  Bruce  looked  behind  him 
and  beheld,  emerging  from  a  hazel  bush,  through  which 
it  had  forced  its  way,  the  visage  of  Roaring  Ralph  Stack- 
pole,  its  natural  ugliness  greatly  increased  by  countless 
scratches  and  spots  of  blood,  the  result  of  his  leap  down  the 
ledge  of  rocks,  when  first  set  upon  by  the  Indians,  and  his 
eyes  squinting  daggers  and  ratsbane,  especially  while  he 
was  giving  utterance  to  that  gallinaceous  slogan  with 
which  he  was  wont  to  express  his  appetite  for  conflict,  and 
with  which  he  now  concluded  his  unceremonious  saluta- 
tion. 

The  voice  and  visage  were  alike  familiar  to  Bruce's 
senses,  and  neither  was  so  well  fitted  to  excite  alarm  as 
merriment.  But,  on  the  present  occasion,  they  produced 
an  effect  upon  the  young  Regulator's  spirits,  and  through 
them  upon  his  actions,  the  most  unfortunate  in  the  world ; 
to  understand  which  it  must  be  recollected  that  the  worthy 
Kentuckian  had,  twenty-four  hours  before,  with  his  own 
hands,  assisted  in  gibbeting  honest  Ralph  on  the  beech- 
tree,  where,  he  had  every  reason  to  suppose,  his  lifeless 
body  was  hanging  at  that  very  moment.  His  astonish- 
ment and  horror  may  therefore  be  conceived,  when,  turn- 
ing in  some  perturbation  at  the  well-known  voice,  he  be- 
held that  identical  body,  the  corse  of  the  executed  horse- 
thief,  crawling  after  him  in  the  grass,  "winking,  and  blink- 
ing, and  squinting,"  as  he  was  used  afterwards  to  say,  "as 
if  the  devil  had  him  by  the  postern."  It  was  a  spectacle 
which  the  nerves  of  even  Tom  Bruce  could  not  stand;  it 
did  what  armed  Indians  could  not  do, — it  frightened  him 
out  of  his  propriety.  Forgetting  his  situation,  his  com- 


KICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

rades,  the  savages — forgetting  every  thing  but  the  fact  of 
his  having  administered  the  last  correction  of  Lynch-law 
to  the  object  of  his  terror,  he  sprang  on  his  feet,  and  roar- 
ing, "By  the  etarnal  devil,  here's  Kalph  Stackpole!"  he 
took  to  his  heels,  running,  in  his  confusion,  right  in  the 
direction  of  the  enemy,  among  whom  he  would  have  pres- 
ently found  himself,  but  for  a  shot,  by  which  before  he 
had  run  six  yards,  the  unfortunate  youth  was  struck  to  the 
earth. 

The  exclamation,  and  the  sight  of  Ealph  himself,  who 
also  rose  to  follow  the  young  leader  upon  what  he  deemed 
a  rush  against  the  foe,  electrified  the  whole  body  of  the 
Eegulators,  who  were  immediately  thrown  into  confusion, 
of  which  the  savages  took  the  same  advantage  they  had 
taken  of  Bruce's  agitation,  firing  upon  them  as  they  rose, 
and  then  rushing  upon  them  to  end  the  fray,  before  they 
could  recover  their  wits  or  spirits. 

It  needed  but  this,  and  the  fall  of  their  leader,  to  render 
the  disorder  of  the  young  men  irretrievable;  and,  accord- 
ingly, in  less  than  a  moment  they  were  seen, — all,  at  least, 
who  were  not  already  disabled — flying  in  a  panic  from  the 
field  of  battle.  It  was  in  vain  that  the  captain  of  horse- 
thieves,  divining  at  last  the  cause  of  their  extraordinary 
flight,  roared  out  that  he  was  a  living  man,  with  nothing  of 
a  ghost  about  him  whatever;  the  panic  was  universal  and 
irremediable,  and  nothing  remained  for  him  to  do  but  to 
save  his  own  life  as  quickly  as  possible. 

"  'Tarnal  death  to  me !"  he  bellowed,  turning  to  fly ;  but 
a  groan  from  Bruce  fell  on  his  ear.  He  ran  to  the  side  of 
the  fallen  youth,  and  catching  him  by  the  hand,  exclaimed, 
"Now  for  the  best  leg,  Tom,  and  a  rush  uphill  to  the 
bosses !" 

"You  arn't  hanged  then,  after  all?"  muttered  the  jun- 
ior ;  and  then  fell  back  as  if  unable  to  rise,  adding  faintly, 
"Go ; — rat  it,  I'm  done  for.  As  for  the — '1 — savages,  what 
I  have  to  say — '1 — '1.  But  I  reckon  scalping's  not  much; 
— '1 — '1, — one  soon  gets  used  to  it!" 

And  thus  the  young  Kentuckian,  his  blood  oozing  fast, 


NICK   OF    THE    WOODS. 

his  mind  wandering,  his  utterance  failing,  muttered,  re- 
signed himself  to  his  fate,  ignorant  that  even  Stackpole 
was  no  longer  at  his  side  to  hear  him.  His  fate  did,  in- 
deed, seem  to  be  inevitable;  for  while  Stackpole  had  him 
by  the  hand,  vainly  tugging  to  get  him  on  his  feet,  three 
different  Indians  were  seen  running  with  might  and  main 
to  quench  the  last  spark  of  his  existence,  and  to  finish 
Stackpole  at  the  same  time. 

But  in  that  very  emergency,  the  ill-luck  which  seemed 
to  pursue  the  horse-thief,  and  all  with  whom  he  was  asso- 
ciated, found  a  change;  and  destiny  sent  them  both  as- 
sistance in  a  way  and  by  means  as  unexpected  as  they  were 
unhoped  for.  The  approach  of  the  savages  was  noticed  by 
Soaring  Ealph,  who,  not  knowing  how  to  save  his  young 
executioner,  against  whom  he  seemed  to  entertain  no  feel- 
ings of  anger  whatever,  and  whose  approaching  fate  he  ap- 
peared well  disposed  to  revenge  beforehand,  clapped  his 
rifle  to  his  shoulder,  to  make  sure  of  one  of  their  number ; 
when  his  eye  was  attracted  by  the  spectacle  of  a  horse  rush- 
ing up  the  stony  road,  neighing  furiously  and  scattering 
the  Indians  from  before  him.  It  was  the  charger  Briareus, 
who  had  broken  from  the  tree  where  he  had  been  fastened 
below,  and  now  came  dashing  up  the  hill,  distracted  with 
terror,  or  perhaps  burning  to  mingle  in  the  battle,  which 
he  had  heard  and  snuffed  from  afar.  He  galloped  by  the 
three  Indians,  who  leaped  aside  in  alarm,  while  Stackpole, 
taking  advantage  of  the  moment,  ran  up  and  seized  him 
by  the  bridle.  In  another  moment  he  had  assisted  the 
fainting  Kentuckian  upon  the  animal's  back,  leaped  up 
behind  him,  and  was  dashing  with  wild  speed  up  the  hill, 
yelling  with  triumph,  and  laughing  to  scorn  the  bullets 
that  were  shot  vainly  after. 

All  this  the  unhappy  Roland  beheld,  and  with  a  revul- 
sion of  feelings  that  can  only  be  imagined.  He  saw,  with- 
out, indeed,  entirely  comprehending  the  cause,  the  sudden 
confusion  and  final  flight  of  the  little  band,  at  the  moment 
of  anticipated  victory.  He  saw  them  flying  wildly  up  the 
hill,  in  irretrievable  rout,  followed  by  the  whooping  victors, 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 


who,  with  the  fugitives,  soon  vanished  entirely  from  view, 
leaving  the  field  of  battle  to  the  dead,  and  to  the  thrice 
miserable  captives. 


CHAPTEE  XX. 

The  prisoner, 

Whom   he,   in   this   adventure,   hath   surpris'd, 
To  his  own  use  he  keeps. 

— Henry  IV. 

THE  conflict,  though  sharp  and  hot,  considering  the 
insignificant  number  of  combatants  on  either  side,  was  of 
no  very  long  duration,  the  whole  time,  from  the  appearance 
of  the  Kentuckians  until  the  flight,  scarce  exceeding  half 
an  hour.  But  the  pursuit,  which  the  victors  immediately 
commenced,  lasted  a  much  longer  space;  and  it  was  more 
than  an  hour — an  age  of  suspense  and  suffering  to  the 
soldier — before  the  sound  of  whooping  on  the  hill  apprised 
him  of  their  return.  They  brought  with  thfjrn,  as  trophies 
of  success,  two  horses,  on  each  of  which  sat  three  or  four 
different  Indians,  as  many  indeed  as  could  «et  upon  the 
animal's  back,  where  they  clung  together,  shouting,  laugh- 
ing, and  otherwise  diverting  themselves,  more  Jike  joyous 
school-boys  than  stern  warriors  who  had  just  frmght  and 
won  a  bloody  battle. 

But  this  semblance  of  mirth  and  good  humor  lasted  no 
longer  than  while  the  savages  were  riding  from  *H«  hill- 
top to  the  battle-ground;  which  having  reached  they 
sprang  upon  the  ground,  and  running  wildly  about,  uttered 
several  cries  of  the  most  mournful  character, — laments* 
as  Roland  supposed,  over  the  bodies  of  their  fallen  com- 
panions. 

But  if  such  was  their  sorrow,  while  looking  upon  their 
own  dead,  the  sight  of  their  lifeless  foemen,  of  whom  two, 
besides  the  negro  Emperor,  who  had  been  tomahawked  the 
moment  after  he  fell,  had  been  unhappily  left  lying  on  the 
field,  soon  changed  it  into  fiercer  passion.  The  wail  be- 


200  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

came  a  yell  of  fury,  loud  and  frightful ;  and  Eoland  could 
see  them  gathering  round  each  corse,  striking  the  senseless 
clay  repeatedly  with  their  knives  and  hatchets,  each  seek- 
ing to  surpass  his  fellow  in  the  savage  work  of  mutilation. 
Such  is  the  red-man  of  America,  whom  courage — an  at- 
tribute of  all  lovers  of  blood,  whether  man  or  animal ;  mis- 
fortune— the  destiny  in  every  quarter  of  the  globe  of  every 
barbarous  race,  which  contact  with  a  civilized  one  cannot 
civilize ;  and  the  dreams  of  poets  and  sentimentalists,  have 
invested  with  a  character  wholly  incompatible  with  his 
condition.  Individual  virtues  may  be,  and  indeed  fre- 
quently are,  found  among  men  in  a  natural  state;  but 
honor,  justice,  and  generosity,  as  characteristics  of  the 
mass,  are  refinements  belonging  only  to  an  advanced  stage 
of  civilization. 

In  the  midst  of  this  barbarous  display  of  unsatisfied 
rage,  several  of  the  savages  approached  the  unfortunate 
Roland,  and  among  them  the  old  Piankeshaw,  who,  flourish- 
ing his  hatchet,  already  clotted  with  blood,  and  looking 
more  like  a  demon  than  a  human  being,  made  an  effort  to 
dash  out  the  soldier's  brains ;  in  which,  however,  he  was  re- 
strained by  two  younger  savages,  who  caught  him  in  their 
arms,  and  muttered  somewhat  in  their  own  tongue,  which 
mollified  his  wrath  in  a  moment,  causing  him  to  burst  into 
a  roar  of  obstreperous  laughter. 

"Ees, — good !"  he  cried,  grinning  with  apparent  benevo- 
lence and  friendship  over  the  helpless  youth; — "no  hurt 
Long-knife;  take  him  Piankeshaw  nation;  make  good 
friend  squaw,  papoose — all  brudders  Long-knife." 

With  these  expressions,  of  the  purport  of  which  Roland 
could  understand  but  little,  he  left  him,  retiring  with  the 
rest,  as  Roland  soon  saw,  to  conceal  or  bury  the  bodies  of 
his  slain  comrades,  which  were  borne  in  the  arms  of  the 
survivors  to  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  and  there,  carefully  and 
in  silence,  deposited  among  thickets,  or  in  the  crannies  of 
the  rock. 

This  ceremony  completed,  Roland  was  again  visited  by 
his  Piankeshaw  friend  and  the  two  young  warriors  who 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

had  saved  his  life  before,  and  were  perhaps  fearful  of 
trusting  it  entirely  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  senior. 
It  was  fortunate  for  Eoland  that  he  was  thus  attended ;  for 
the  old  warrior  had  no  sooner  approached  him  than  he 
began  to  weep  and  groan,  uttering  an  harangue,  which, 
although  addressed,  as  it  seemed,  entirely  to  the  prostrate 
captive,  was  in  the  Indian  tongue,  and  therefore  wholly 
wasted  upon  his  ears.  Nevertheless,  he  could  perceive  that 
the  Indian  was  relating  something  that  weighted  very 
heavily  upon  his  mind,  that  he  was  warming  with  his  sub- 
ject, and  even  working  himself  up  into  a  passion ;  and,  in- 
deed, he  had  not  spoken  very  long  before  his  visage  changed 
from  grief  to  wrath,  and  from  wrath  to  the  extreme  of 
fury,  in  which  he  began  to  handle  his  hatchet  as  on  the 
previous  occasion,  making  every  demonstration  of  the  best 
disposition  in  the  world  to  bury  it  in  the  prisoner's  brain. 

He  was  again  arrested  by  the  young  savages,  who  mut- 
tered something  in  his  ear  as  before;  and  again  the  effect 
was  to  convert  his  anger  into  merriment,  the  change  being 
effected  with  a  facility  that  might  well  have  amazed  the 
prisoner,  had  his  despair  permitted  him  to  feel  any  lighter 
emotion.  "Good  I"  replied  the  old  warrior,  as  if  in  reply 
to  what  the  others  had  said;  "Long-knife  go  Piankeshaw 
nation, — make  great  sight  for  Piankeshaw !" 

And  so  saying,  he  began  to  dance  about,  with  many 
grimaces  of  visage  and  contortions  of  body,  that  seemed 
to  have  a  meaning  for  his  comrades,  who  fetched  a  whoop 
of  admiration,  though  entirely  inexplicable  to  the  soldier. 
Then  seizing  the  latter  by  the  arm,  and  setting  him  on  his 
feet,  the  warrior  led,  or  dragged  him  a  little  way  down 
the  hill  to  a  place  on  the  roadside  where  the  victors  were 
assembled,  deliberating,  doubtless,  upon  the  fate  of  their 
prisoners. 

They  seemed  to  have  suffered  a  considerable  loss  in  the 
battle,  twelve  being  the  whole  number  now  to  be  seen; 
and  most  of  these,  judging  from  the  fillets  of  rags  and 
bundles  of  green  leaves  tied  about  their  limbs,  had  been 
wounded, — two  of  them,  to  all  appearance,  very  severely,  if 


202  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

not  mortally;  for  they  lay  upon  the  earth  a  little  apart 
from  the  rest,  in  whose  motions  they  seemed  to  take  no 
interest. 

As  Eoland  approached,  he  looked  in  vain  amid  the  throng 
for  his  kinswoman.  Neither  she  nor  Telie  Doe  was  to  be 
seen.  But  casting  his  eye  wildly  around,  it  fell  upon  a 
little  grove  of  trees  not  many  yards  off,  in  which  he  could 
perceive  the  figures  of  horses,  as  well  as  of  a  tall  barbarian 
who  stood  on  its  edge,  as  if  keeping  guard,  wrapped,  not- 
withstanding the  sultriness  of  the  weather,  in  a  blanket, 
from  chin  to  foot,  while  his  head  was  as  warmly  invested 
in  the  ample  folds  of  a  huge  scarlet  handkerchief.  He 
stood  like  a  statue,  his  arms  folded  on  his  breast,  and  lost 
under  the  heavy  festoons  of  the  blanket;  while  his  eyes 
were  fastened  upon  the  group  of  Indians  on  the  roadside, 
from  which  they  wandered  only  to  glare  a  moment  upon 
the  haggard  and  despairing  visage  of  the  soldier. 

In  that  copse,  Roland  doubted  not  the  savages  had  con- 
cealed a  hopeless  and  helpless  captive,  the  being  for  whom 
he  had  struggled  and  suffered  so  long  and  so  vainly,  the 
maid  whose  forebodings  of  evil  had  been  so  soon  and  so 
dreadfully  realized. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  savages  on  the  roadside  began  the 
business  for  which  they  had  assembled ;  that  seemed  to  be, 
in  the  first  place,  the  division  of  spoils,  consisting  of  the 
guns,  horses,  and  clothes  of  the  dead,  with  sundry  other 
articles,  which,  but  for  his  unhappy  condition,  Roland 
would  have  wondered  to  behold ;  for  there  were  among  them 
rolls  of  cloth  and  calico,  heaps  of  hawks'-bells  and  other 
Indian  trinkets,  knives,  pipes,  powder  and  ball,  and  other 
such  articles,  even  to  a  keg  or  two  of  the  fire-water,  enough 
to  stock  an  Indian  trading-house. 

These,  wherever  and  however  obtained,  were  distributed 
equally  among  the  Indians  by  a  man  of  lighter  skin  than 
themselves — a  half-breed,  as  Roland  supposed — who 
seemed  to  exercise  some  authority  among  them,  though  ever 
deferring  in  all  things  to  an  old  Indian  of  exceedingly 
fierce  and  malignant  aspect,  though  wasted  and  withered 


NICK   OF   THE    WOODS.  £03 

into  the  semblance  of  a  consumptive  wolf,  who  sat  upon 
a  stone,  buried  in  gloomy  abstraction,  from  which,  time  by 
time,  he  awoke,  to  direct  the  dispersion  of  the  valuables, 
through  the  hands  of  his  deputy,  with  exceeding  great 
gravity  and  state. 

The  distribution  being  effected,  and  evidently  to  the 
satisfaction  of  all  present,  the  savages  turned  their  looks 
upon  the  prisoner,  eyeing  him  with  mingled  triumph  and 
exultation;  and  the  old  presiding  officer,  or  chief,  as  he 
seemed  to  be,  shaking  off  his  abstraction,  got  upon  his  feet 
and  made  him  an  harangue,  imitating  therein  the  ancient 
Piankeshaw,  though  with  this  difference,  that,  whereas  the 
latter  spoke  entirely  in  his  own  tongue,  the  former  thought 
fit,  among  abundance  of  Indian  phrases,  to  introduce  some 
that  were  sufficiently  English  to  enable  the  soldier  to  guess, 
at  least,  at  part  of  his  meaning. 

His  oration,  however,  as  far  as  Roland  could  understand 
it,  consisted  chiefly  in  informing  him  that  he  was  a  very 
great  chief,  who  had  killed  abundance  of  white  people, 
men,  women,  and  children,  whose  scalps  had  for  thirty 
years  and  more  been  hanging  in  the  smoke  of  his  Shawnee 
lodge — that  he  was  very  brave,  and  loved  a  white  man's 
blood  better  than  whiskey,  and  that  he  never  spared  it  out 
of  pity — adding,  as  the  cause,  and  seeming  well  pleased 
that  he  could  boast  a  deficiency  so  well  befitting  a  warrior, 
that  he  "had  no  heart"  his  interior  being  framed  of  stone 
as  hard  as  the  flinty  rock  under  his  feet. 

This  exordium  finished,  he  proceeded  to  bestow  sundry 
abusive  epithets  upon  the  prisoner,  charging  him  with 
having  put  his  young  men  to  a  great  deal  of  needless 
trouble,  besides  having  killed  several ;  for  which,  he  added, 
the  Long-knife  ought  to  expect  nothing  better  than  to  have 
his  face  blackened  and  be  burnt  alive — a  hint  that  pro- 
duced an  universal  grunt  of  assent  on  the  part  of  the 
auditors. 

Having  received  this  testimony  of  approbation,  he  re- 
sumed his  discourse,  pursuing  it  for  the  space  of  ten  min- 
utes or  more  with  considerable  vigor  and  eloquence;  but 


204  NICK   OP    THE    WOODS. 

as  the  whole  speech  consisted,  like  most  other  Indian 
speeches,  of  the  same  things  said  over  and  over  again,  those 
same  things  being  scarcely  worth  the  trouble  of  utterance, 
we  think  it  needless  to  say  any  thing  further  of  it;  except 
that,  first,  as  it  seemed  to  Eoland,  as  far  as  he  could  under- 
stand the  broken  expressions  of  the  chief,  he  delivered  a 
very  furious  tirade  against  the  demon  enemy  of  his  race, 
the  bloody  Jibbenainosay,  the  white  man's  War-Manito, 
whom  he  declared  it  was  his  purpose  to  fight  and  kill,  as 
soon  as  that  destroyer  should  have  the  courage  to  face  him, 
the  old  Shawnee  chief,  like  a  human  warrior, — and  that  it 
inspired  several  others  to  get  up  and  make  speeches  like- 
wise. Of  all  these  the  burden  seemed  to  be  the  unpar- 
donable crime  of  killing  their  comrades,  of  which  the 
young  soldier  had  been  guilty ;  and  he  judged,  by  the  fury 
of  their  countenances,  that  they  were  only  debating 
whether  they  should  put  him  to  death  on  the  spot,  or  carry 
him  to  their  country  to  be  tortured. 

The  last  speaker  of  all  was  the  old  Piankeshaw,  whose 
meaning  could  be  only  guessed  at  from  his  countenance 
and  gestures,  the  one  being  as  angry  and  woe-begone  as  the 
latter  were  active  and  expressive.  He  pointed,  at  least  a 
dozen  times  over,  to  two  fresh  and  gory  scalps — the  most 
highly  valued  trophies  of  victory — that  lay  at  the  feet  of 
the  Shawnee  chief,  as  many  times  to  the  horse,  and  thrice 
as  often  at  the  person  of  Eoland,  who  stood  now  surveying 
his  dark  visage  with  a  look  of  sullen  despair,  now  casting 
his  eyes  with  a  gaze  of  inexpressible  emotion  towards  the 
little  copse,  in  which  he  still  sought  in  vain  a  glimpse  of 
his  Edith. 

But  if  the  old  warrior's  finger  was  often  bent  towards 
these  three  attractive  objects,  innumerable  were  the  times 
it  was  pointed  at  the  two  or  three  little  whiskey-kegs,  which 
not  having  been  yet  distributed,  lay  untouched  upon  the 
grass.  The  words  with  which  he  accompanied  these  ex- 
pressive gestures  seemed  to  produce  a  considerable  effect 
upon  all  his  hearers,  even  upon  the  ancient  chief,  who,  at 
the  close  of  the  oration.,  giving  a  sign  to  one  of  his  young 


NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

men,  the  latter  ran  to  the  copse  and  instantly  returned, 
bringing  with  him  one  of  the  horses,  which  the  chief  im- 
mediately handed  over,  through  his  deputy,  to  the  orator, 
and  the  orator  to  one  of  the  two  young  warriors,  who  seemed 
to  be  of  his  own  tribe. 

The  chief  then  pointed  to  a  keg  of  the  fire-water,  and 
this  was  also  given  to  the  Piankeshaw,  who  received  it 
with  a  grin  of  ecstasy,  embraced  it,  snuffed  at  its  odorif- 
erous contents,  and  then  passed  it  in  like  manner  to  his 
second  follower.  The  chief  made  yet  another  signal,  and 
the  deputy,  taking  Eoland  by  the  arm,  and  giving  him  a 
piercing,  perhaps  even  a  pitying  look,  delivered  him  like- 
wise into  the  hands  of  the  Piankeshaw,  who,  as  if  his  hap- 
piness were  now  complete,  received  him  with  a  yell  of  joy, 
that  was  caught  up  by  his  two  companions,  and  finally 
joined  in  by  all  the  savages  present. 

This  shout  seemed  to  be  the  signal  for  the  breaking  up 
of  the  convention.  All  rose  to  their  feet,  iterating  and 
reiterating  the  savage  cry,  while  the  Piankeshaw,  clutch- 
ing his  prize,  and  slipping  a  noose  around  the  thong  that 
bound  his  arms,  endeavored  to  drag  him  to  the  horse,  on 
which  the  young  men  had  already  secured  the  keg  of 
liquor,  and  which  they  were  holding  in  readiness  for  the 
elder  barbarian  to  mount. 

At  that  conjecture,  and  while  Eoland  was  beginning  to 
suspect  that  even  the  wretched  consolation  of  remaining 
in  captivity  by  his  kinswoman's  side  was  about  to  be  de- 
nied him,  and  while  the  main  body  of  savages  were  ob- 
viously bidding  farewell  to  the  little  bands  of  Pianke- 
shaws,  some  shaking  them  by  the  hands,  while  others  made 
game  of  the  prisoner's  distress  in  sundry  Indian  ways, 
and  all  uttering  yells  expressive  of  their  different  feelings, 
there  appeared  rushing  from  the  copse,  and  running  among 
the  barbarians,  the  damsel  Telie  Doe,  who,  not  a  little  to 
the  surprise  even  of  the  ill-fated  Eoland  himself,  ran  to  his 
side,  caught  the  rope  by  which  he  was  held,  and  endeavored 
frantically  to  snatch  it  from  the  hands  of  the  Piankeshaw. 

The  act,  for  one  of  her  peculiarly  timorous  spirit,  was 


206  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

surprising  enough;  but  a  great  transformation  seemed  to 
have  suddenly  taken  place  in  her  character  and  even  her 
appearance,  which  was  less  that  of  a  feeble  woman  en- 
gaged in  a  work  of  humanity,  than  of  a  tigress  infuriated 
by  the  approach  of  hunters  against  the  lair  of  her  sleeping 
young.  She  grasped  the  cord  with  unexpected  strength, 
and  her  eyes  flashed  fire  as  they  wandered  around,  until 
they  met  those  of  the  supposed  half-breed,  to  whom  she 
called,  with  tones  of  the  most  vehement  indignation, — 
"Oh,  father,  father !  what  are  you  doing  ?  You  won't  give 
him  up  to  the  murderers?  You  promised,  you  prom- 
ised  » 

"Peace,  fool  \"  interrupted  the  man  thus  addressed,  tak- 
ing her  by  the  arm,  and  endeavoring  to  jerk  her  from  the 
prisoner;  "away  with  you  to  your  place,  and  be  silent." 

"I  will  not,  father; — I  will  not  be  silent,  I  will  not 
away!"  cried  the  girl,  resisting  his  efforts,  and  speaking 
with  a  voice  that  mingled  the  bitterest  reproach  with  im- 
ploring entreaty;  "you  are  a  white  man,  father,  and  not 
an  Indian;  yes,  father,  you  are  no  Indian,  and  you  prom- 
ised no  harm  should  be  done, — you  did,  father,  you  did 
promise  I" 

"Away,  gal,  I  tell  you!"  thundered  the  renegade  par- 
ent; and  he  again  strove  to  drag  her  from  the  prisoner. 
But  Telie,  as  driven  frantic  by  the  act,  flung  her  arms 
round  Roland's  body,  from  which  she  was  drawn  only  by 
an  effort  of  strength  which  her  weaker  powers  were  unable 
to  resist.  But  even  then  she  did  not  give  over  her  purpose ; 
but  starting  from  her  father's  arm,  she  ran  screaming  back 
to  Roland,  and  would  have  again  clasped  him  in  her  own; 
when  the  renegade,  driven  to  fury  by  her  opposition,  ar- 
rested her  with  one  hand,  and  with  the  other  catching  up  a 
knife  that  lay  in  the  grass,  he  made  as  if,  in  his  fit  of  pas- 
sion, he  would  have  actually  plunged  it  into  her  breast. 
His  malevolent  visage  and  brutal  threat  awoke  the  terrors 
of  the  woman  in  her  heart,  and  she  sank  on  her  knees,  cry- 
ing, with  a  piercing  voice, — "Oh,  father,  don't  kill  meJ 
don't  kill  your  own  daughter !" 


"Oh,  father,  don't  kill  me!  don't  kill  your  own  daughter!" 
said  the  girl  falling  on  her  knees  before  the  outlaw.     Page  206. 

Nick  oj  ihe  Woods 


NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

"Kill  you,  indeed!"  muttered  the  outlaw,  with  a  laugh 
of  scorn ;  "even  Injuns  don't  kill  their  own  children ;"  and, 
taking  advantage  of  her  terror,  he  beckoned  to  the  Pianke- 
shaw,  who,  as  well  as  all  the  other  Indians,  seemed  greatly 
astounded  and  scandalized  at  the  indecorous  interference 
of  a  female  in  the  affairs  of  warriors,  to  remove  the  pris- 
oner; which  he  did  by  immediately  beginning  to  drag  him 
down  the  hill.  The  action  was  not  unobserved  by  the  girl, 
whose  struggles  to  escape  from  her  father's  arms,  to  pursue, 
as  it  seemed,  after  the  soldier,  Eoland  could  long  see,  while 
her  wild  and  piteous  cries  were  still  longer  brought  to  his 
ears. 

As  for  Eoland  himself,  the  words  and  actions  of  the  girl, 
though  they  might  have  awakened  the  suspicions,  not  be- 
fore experienced,  of  her  good  faith,  and  even  appeared  to 
show  that  it  was  less  to  unlucky  accident  than  to  foul  con- 
spiracy he  owed  his  misfortunes, — did  not,  and  could  not, 
banish  the  despair  that  absorbed  his  mind,  to  the  exclusion 
of  every  other  feeling.  He  seemed  even  to  himself  to  be 
in  a  dream,  the  sport  of  an  incubus,  that  oppressed  every 
faculty  and  energy  of  spirit,  while  yet  presenting  the  most 
dreadful  phantasms  to  his  imagination.  His  tongue  had 
lost  its  function;  he  strove  several  times  to  speak,  but 
tongue  and  spirit  were  alike  paralyzed.  The  nightmare 
oppressed  mind  and  body  together. 

It  was  in  this  unhappy  condition,  the  result  of  over- 
wrought feelings  and  intolerable  bodily  suffering,  that  he 
was  led  by  his  Piankeshaw  masters  down  the  hill  to  the 
river,  which  they  appeared  to  be  about  to  pass;  whilst  the 
chief  body  of  marauders  were  left  to  seek  another  road  from 
the  field  of  battle.  Here  the  old  warrior  descended  from 
his  horse,  and,  leaving  Eoland  in  charge  of  the  two  juniors, 
stepped  a  little  aside  to  a  place  where  was  a  ledge  of  rocks, 
in  the  face  of  which  seemed  to  be  the  entrance  to  a  cavern, 
although  carefully  blocked  up  by  masses  of  stone  that  had 
been  but  recently  removed  from  its  foot. 

The  Piankeshaw,  taking  post  directly  in  front  of  the 
whole,  began  to  utter  many  mournful  ejaculations,  which 


208  KICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

were  addressed  to  the  insensate  rock,  or  perhaps  to  the 
equally  insensate  corse  of  a  comrade  concealed  within. 
He  drew,  also,  from  a  little  pouch — his  medicine  bag — • 
divers  bits  of  bone,  wood,  and  feathers,  the  most  valued 
idols  of  his  fetich,  which  he  scattered  about  the  rock,  sing- 
ing the  while,  in  a  highly  lugubrious  tone,  the  praises  of 
the  dead,  and  shedding  tears  that  might  have  been  sup- 
posed the  outpourings  of  genuine  sorrow. 

But  if  sorrow  it  was  that  thus  affected  the  spirits  of  the 
warrior,  as  it  seemed  to  have  done  on  several  previous  occa- 
sions, it  proved  to  be  as  easily  consolable  as  before,  as  the 
event  showed;  for,  having  finished  his  lamentations,  and 
left  the  rock,  he  advanced  towards  Roland,  whom  he  threat- 
ened for  the  third  time  with  his  knife;  when  one  of  the 
younger  Indians  muttering  a  few  words  of  remonstrance, 
and  pointing  at  the  same  time  to  the  keg  of  fire-water 
on  the  horse's  back,  his  grief  and  rage  expired  together  in 
a  haw-haw,  ten  times  more  obstreperous  and  joyous  than 
any  he  had  indulged  before.  Then  mounting  the  horse, 
seemingly  in  the  best  humor  in  the  world,  and  taking  the 
end  of  the  cord  by  which  Roland  was  bound,  he  rode  into 
the  water,  dragging  the  unfortunate  prisoner  along  at  his 
horse's  heels,  while  the  younger  Piankeshaw*  brought  up 
the  rear,  ready  to  prevent  resistance  on  the  soldier's  part, 
should  he  prove  in  any  degree  refractory. 

In  this  ignominous  manner  the  unhappy  Forrester 
passed  the  river,  to  do  which  had,  for  twenty-four  hours, 
been  the  chief  object  of  his  wishes.  The  ford  was  wide, 
deep,  and  rocky,  and  the  current  strong,  so  that  he  was 
several  times  swept  from  his  feet,  and,  being  unable  to  rise, 
would  have  perished, — happy  could  he  have  thus  escaped 
his  tormentors, — had  not  the  young  warriors  been  nigh  to 
give  him  assistance.  Assistance,  in  such  cases,  was  indeed 
always  rendered;  but  his  embarrassments  and  perils  only 
afforded  food  for  mirth  to  his  savage  attendants,  who,  at 
every  fall  and  dip  in  the  tide,  made  the  hills  resound  with 
their  vociferous  laughter.  It  is  only  among  children  (we 
mean,  of  course,  bad  ones)  and  savages,  who  are  but  grown 


N:^K    OP    '  TtE    WOODS.  209 

children,  after  all,  I  it  we  find  malice  and  mirth  go  hand 
in  hand, — the  will  to  create  misery,  and  the  power  to  see 
it  invested  in  ludicrous  colors. 

The  river  was  at  last  crossed,  and  the  bank  being  as- 
cended, the  three  warriors  paused  a  moment  to  send  their 
last  greeting  across  to  their  allies,  who  were  seen  climbing 
the  hill,  taking  their  own  departure  from  the  battle-ground. 
[Even  Eoland  was  stirred  from  his  stupefaction,  as  he  be- 
held the  train,  some  on  foot,  some  on  the  captured  horses, 
winding  up  the  narrow  road  to  the  hill-top.  He  looked 
among  them  for  his  Edith,  and  saw  her,  or  fancied  he  saw 
her,  for  the  distance  was  considerable, — supported  on  one 
of  the  animals,  grasped  in  the  arms  of  a  tall  savage,  the 
guard  of  the  grove,  whose  scarlet  turban,  glittering  in  the 
sunshine,  and  his  ample  white  blanket  flowing  over  the 
flanks  of  the  horse,  made  the  most  conspicuous  objects  in 
the  train.  But  while  he  looked,  barbarian  and  captive 
vanished  together  behind  the  hill,  for  they  were  at  the  head 
of  the  train.  There  remained  a  throng  of  footmen,  who 
paused  an  instant  on  the  crest  of  the  ridge  to  return  the 
farewell  whoop  of  the  three  Piankeshaws.  This  being 
done,  they  likewise  vanished ;  and  the  Piankeshaws,  turning 
their  faces  towards  the  west,  and  dragging  the  prisoner 
after  them,  resumed  their  journey. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

Good  things  of  day  begin  to  droop  and  drowse, 
While  night's  black  agents  to  their  prey  do  rouse. 

— Macbeth. 

THE  agony  which  Roland  suffered  from  the  thong  so 
tightly  secured  upon  his  wrists,  was  so  far  advantageous, 
as  it  distracted  his  mind  from  the  subject  which  had  at 
first  been  the  chief  source  of  his  distress;  for  it  was  im- 
possible to  think  long  even  of  his  kinswoman,  while  endur- 
ing tortures  that  ^ere  aggravated  by  every  jerk  of  the  rope, 


210  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

by  which  he  was  dragged  along;  these  were  growing  more 
insupportable  every  moment.  His  sufferings,  however, 
seemed  to  engage  little  of  the  thoughts  of  his  conductors, 
who,  leaving  the  buffalo-road,  and  striking  into  the  path- 
less forest,  pushed  onward  at  a  rapid  pace,  compelling  him 
to  keep  up  with  them;  and  it  was  not  until  he  had  twice 
fainted  from  pain  and  exhaustion,  that,  after  some  discus- 
sion, they  thought  fit  to  loosen  the  thong,  which  they  after- 
wards removed  altogether. 

Then,  whether  it  was  that  they  were  touched  at  last 
with  compassion,  or  afraid  that  death  might  snatch  the 
prisoner  from  their  hands,  if  too  severely  treated,  they 
proceeded  even  to  take  other  measures  of  a  seemingly 
friendly  kind,  to  allay  his  pangs;  washing  his  lacerated 
wrists  in  a  little  brook,  on  whose  banks  they  paused  to 
give  him  rest,  and  then  binding  them  up,  as  well  as  the 
two  or  three  painful,  though  not  dangerous  wounds  he  had 
received,  with  green  leaves,  which  one  of  the  juniors 
plucked,  bruised,  and  applied  with  every  appearance  of 
the  most  brotherly  interest;  while  the  other,  to  equal,  or 
surpass  him  in  benevolence,  took  the  keg  of  whiskey  from 
the  horse's  back,  and  filling  a  little  wooden  bowl  that  he 
took  from  the  pack,  insisted  that  the  prisoner  should 
Bwallow  it.  In  this  recommendation  the  old  Piankeshaw 
also  concurred ;  but  finding  that  Eoland  recoiled  with  dis- 
gust, after  an  attempt  to  taste  the  fiery  liquor,  he  took  the 
bowl  into  his  own  hands,  and  despatched  its  contents  at  a 
draught.  "Good !  great  good !"  he  muttered,  smacking  his 
lips  with  high  gusto;  "white  man  make  good  drink — 
Piankeshaw  great  friend  white  man's  liquor." 

Having  thus  opened  their  hearts,  nothing  could  be,  to 
appearance,  more  friendly  and  affectionate  than  the  bear- 
ing of  the  savages,  at  least  so  long  as  they  remained  at  the 
brook;  and  even  when  the  journey  was  resumed,  which  it 
soon  was,  their  deportment  was  but  little  less  loving.  It 
is  true,  that  the  senior,  before  mounting  his  horse,  pro- 
ceeded very  coolly  to  clap  the  noose,  which  had  previously 
been  placed  on  Roland's  arms,  around  his  neck,  where  it 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

bade  fair  to  strangle  him,  at  the  first  false  step  of  the  horse ; 
but  the  young  Indians  walked  at  his  side,  chattering  in 
high  good  humor;  though,  as  their  stock  of  English  ex- 
tended only  to  the  single  phrase,  "Bozhoo,  brudder,"  which 
was  not  in  itself  very  comprehensive,  though  repeated  at 
least  twice  every  minute,  it  may  be  supposed  their  conversa- 
tion had  no  very  enlivening  effect  on  the  prisoner. 

Nor  was  the  old  Piankeshaw  much  behind  the  juniors 
in  good  humor;  though,  it  must  be  confessed,  his  feelings 
were  far  more  capricious  and  evanescent.  One  while  he 
would  stop  his  horse,  and  dragging  Eoland  to  his  side,  pat 
him  affectionately  on  the  shoulder,  and  tell  him,  as  well 
as  his  broken  language  could  express  his  intentions,  that 
he  would  take  him  to  the  springs  of  the  Wabash,  one  of 
the  principal  seats  of  his  nation,  and  make  him  his  son  and 
a  great  warrior;  while  at  other  times,  having  indulged  in 
a  fit  of  sighing,  groaning,  and  crying,  he  would  turn,  in  a 
towering  rage,  and  express  a  resolution  to  kill  him  on  the 
spot, — from  which  bloody  disposition,  however,  he  was 
always  easily  turned  by  the  interference  of  the  young 
men. 

These  capricious  changes  were,  perhaps,  owing,  in  a 
great  measure,  to  the  presence  of  the  whiskey-keg,  which 
the  old  warrior  ever  and  anon  took  from  its  perch  among 
the  packs  behind  him,  and  applied  to  his  lips,  sorely,  as  it 
appeared,  against  the  will  of  his  companions,  who  seemed 
to  remonstrate  with  him  against  a  practice  so  unbecoming 
a  warrior,  while  in  the  heart  of  a  foeman's  country,  and  not 
a  little  also  against  his  own  sense  of  propriety;  for  his 
whole  course  in  relation  to  the  keg  was  like  that  of  a  fish 
that  dallies  round  the  angler's  worm,  uncertain  whether 
to  bite,  now  looking  and  longing,  now  suspecting  the  hook 
and  retreating,  now  returning  to  look  and  long  again,  until 
finally  unable  to  resist  the  temptation,  it  resolves  upon  a 
little  nibble,  which  ends,  even  against  its  own  will,  in  a 
furious  bite. 

It  was  in  this  manner  the  Piankeshaw  addressed  him- 
self to  his  treasure;  the  effect  of  which  was  to  render  each 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

returning  paroxysm  of  affection  and  sorrow  more  energetic 
than  before,  while  it  gradually  robbed  of  their  malignity 
those  fits  of  anger  with  which  he  was  still  occasionally 
seized;  but  it  added  double  fluency  to  his  tongue;  and  not 
content  with  muttering  his  griefs  in  his  own  language,  ad- 
dressing them  to  his  people,  he  finally  began  to  pronounce 
them  in  English,  directing  them  at  Eoland;  whereby  the 
latter  was  made  acquainted  with  the  cause  of  his  sorrow; 
this,  it  appeared,  was  nothing  less  than  the  loss  of  a  son, 
killed  in  the  battle  with  the  Kentuckians,  and  left  to 
moulder,  with  two  or  three  Shawnee  corses,  in  the  cave  by 
the  river  side;  which  loss  he  commemorated  a  dozen  times 
over,  and  with  a  most  piteous  voice,  in  a  lament  that  cele- 
brated the  young  warrior's  virtues. 

"Lost  son!"  he  ejaculated;  "good  huntaw:  kill  bear, 
kill  buffalo,  catch  fish,  feed  old  squaw,  and  young  squaw, 
and  little  papoose — good  son !  mighty  good  son !  Good 
fighting  man :  kill  man  Virginnee,  kill  man  Kentucky.,  kill 
man  Injun-man;  take  scalp,  squaw  scalp,  papoose  scalp, 
man  scalp,  all  kind  of  scalp — debbil  good  fighting  man! 
No  go  home  no  more  Piankeshaw  nation;  no  more  kill 
bear,  no  more  kill  buffalo,  no  more  catch  fish,  no  more  feed 
old  squaw,  and  young  squaw,  and  little  papoose;  no  more 
kill  man,  no  more  take  scalp — lose  own  scalp,  take  it  Long- 
knife  man  Kentucky;  no  more  see  old  Piankeshaw  b'on, 
leave  dead,  big  hole  Kentucky;  no  more  see  no  more 
Piankeshaw  son,  Piankeshaw  nation !" 

With  such  lamentations,  running  at  times  into  rage 
against  his  prisoner,  as  the  representative  of  those  who 
had  shed  the  young  warrior's  blood,  the  old  Piankeshaw 
whiled  away  the  hours  of  travel;  ceasing  them  only  when 
seized  with  a  fit  of  affection,  or  when  some  misstep  of  the 
horse  sent  a  louder  gurgle,  with  a  more  delicious  odor, 
from  the  cask  at  his  back;  which  music  and  perfume  to- 
gether were  a  kind  of  margic  not  to  be  resisted  by  one  who 
stood  so  greatly  in  need  of  consolation. 

The  effect  of  such  constant  and  liberal  visitations  to  the 
comforter  and  enemy  of  his  race,  continued  for  several 


NICK   OF   THE    WOODS.  213 

hours  together,,  was  soon  made  manifest  in  the  old  warrior, 
who  grew  more  loquacious,  more  lachrymose,  and  more 
foolish  every  moment;  until,  by  and  by,  having  travelled 
till  towards  sunset,  a  period  of  six  or  seven  hours  from  the 
time  of  setting  out,  he  began  to  betray  the  most  incontes- 
tible  evidences  of  intoxication.  He  reeled  on  the  horse's 
back,  and,  finally,  becoming  tired  of  the  weight  of  his  gun, 
he  extended  it  to  Eoland,  with  a  very  magisterial  yet 
friendly  nod,  as  if  bidding  him  take  and  carry  it.  It  was 
snatched  from  him,  however,  by  one  of  the  younger  war- 
riors, who  was  too  wise  to  intrust  a  loaded  carbine  in  the 
arms  of  a  prisoner,  and  who  had,  perhaps,  noted  the  sud- 
den gleam  of  fire,  the  first  which  had  visited  them  since 
the  moment  of  his  capture,  that  shot  in  Eoland's  eyes,  as 
he  stretched  forth  his  hands  to  take  the  weapon. 

The  old  Piankeshaw  did  not  seem  to  notice  who  had 
relieved  him  of  the  burden.  He  settled  himself  again  on 
the  saddle  as  well  as  he  could,  and  jogged  onward,  prattling 
and  weeping,  according  to  the  mood  of  the  moment,  now 
droning  out  an  Indian  song,  and  now  nodding  with  drow- 
siness; until  at  last  slumber  or  stupefaction  settled  so 
heavily  upon  his  senses  that  he  became  incapable  of  guid- 
ing his  horse;  and  the  weary  animal,  checked  by  the  un- 
conscious rider,  or  stopping  of  his  own  accord  to  browse 
the  green  cane-leaves  along  the  path,  the  Piankeshaw  sud- 
denly took  a  lurch  wider  than  usual,  and  fell,  like  a  log,  to 
the  ground. 

The  younger  savages  had  watched  the  course  of  proceed- 
ings on  the  part  of  the  senior  with  ill-concealed  dissatisfac- 
tion. The  catastrophe  completed  their  rage,  which,  how- 
ever, was  fortunately  expended  upon  the  legitimate  cause 
of  displeasure.  They  tumbled  the  unlucky  cask  from  its 
perch,  and,  assailing  it  with  horrible  yells  and  as  much  ap- 
parent military  zeal  as  could  have  been  exercised  upon  a 
human  enemy  lying  in  like  manner  at  their  feet,  they 
dashed  it  to  pieces  with  their  tomahawks,  scattering  its 
precious  contents  upon  the  grass. 

While  they  were  thus  engaged,  the  senior  rose  from  the 


214  NICK   OF   THE    WOODS. 

earth,  staring  about  him  for  a  moment  with  looks  of 
stupid  inquiry ;  until,  beginning  at  last  to  comprehend  the 
accident  that  had  happened  to  him,  and  perhaps  moved  by 
the  fate  of  his  treasure,  he  also  burst  into  a  fury;  and 
snatching  up  the  nearest  gun,  he  clapped  it  to  the  horse's 
head,  and  shot  it  dead  on  the  spot,  roaring  out,  "Cuss' 
white-man  hoss!  throw  ole  Piankeshaw!  No  good  noth- 
ing !  Cuss'  debbil  hoss !" 

This  act  of  drunken  and  misdirected  ferocity  seemed 
vastly  to  incense  the  younger  warriors ;  and  the  senior  wax- 
ing as  wrathful  at  the  wanton  destruction  of  his  liquor, 
there  immediately  ensued  a  battle  of  tongues  betwixt  the 
two  parties,  who  scolded  and  rated  one  another  for  the 
space  of  ten  minutes  or  more  with  prodigious  volubility 
and  energy,  the  juniors  expatiating  upon  the  murder  of 
the  horse  as  an  act  of  the  most  unpardonable  folly,  while 
the  senior  seemed  to  insist  that  the  wasting  of  so  much  good 
liquor  was  a  felony  of  equally  culpable  dye ;  and  it  is  prob- 
able he  had  the  better  side  of  the  argument,  since  he  con- 
tinued to  grumble  for  a  long  time,  even  after  he  had 
silenced  the  others. 

But  peace  was  at  last  restored,  and  the  savages  prepared 
to  resume  their  journey;  but  not  until  they  had  unani- 
mously resolved,  that  the  consequences  of  the  quarrel  should 
be  visited  upon  the  head  of  the  captive.  Their  apparent 
good-humor  vanished,  and  the  old  Piankeshaw,  stagger- 
ing up,  gave  Roland  to  understand,  in  an  oration  full  of 
all  the  opprobrious  epithets  he  could  muster,  either  in 
English  or  Indian,  that  he,  the  Piankeshaw,  being  a  very 
great  warrior,  intended  to  carry  him  to  his  country,  to 
run  the  gauntlet  through  every  village  of  the  nation,  and 
then  to  burn  him  alive,  for  the  satisfaction  of  the  women 
and  children ;  and  while  pouring  this  agreeable  intelligence 
into  the  soldier's  ears,  the  juniors  took  the  opportunity  to 
tie  his  arms  a  second  time,  heaping  on  his  shoulders  their 
three  packs;  to  which  the  old  man  afterwards  insisted  on 
adding  the  saddle  and  bridle  of  the  horse,  though  for  no 
very  ostensible  object,  together  with  a  huge  mass  of  the 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 


215 


flesh,  dug  with  his  knife  from  the  still  quivering  carcass, 
which  was  perhaps  designed  for  their  supper. 

Under  this  heavy  load,  the  unhappy  and  degraded  sol- 
dier was  compelled  to  stagger  along  with  his  masters;  but 
fortunately  for  no  long  period.  The  night  was  fast  ap- 
proaching; and  having  soon  arrived  at  a  little  glade  in 
the  forest,  where  a  spring  of  sweet  water  bubbled  from  the 
grass,  they  signified  their  intention  to  make  it  their  camp- 
ing ground  for  the  night.  A  fire  was  struck,  the  horse- 
flesh stuck  upon  a  fork  and  roasted,  and  a  share  of  it  ten- 
dered to  the  prisoner;  who,  sick  at  heart,  and  feverish  in 
body,  refused  it  with  as  much  disgust  as  he  had  shown  at 
the  whiskey,  expressing  his  desire  only  to  drink  of  the 
spring,  which  he  was  allowed  to  do  to  his  liking. 

The  savages  then  collected  grass  and  leaves,  with  which 
they  spread  a  couch  under  a  tree  beside  their  fire;  and 
here,  having  compelled  the  soldier  to  lie  down,  they  pro- 
ceeded to  secure  him  for  the  night  with  a  cruel  care,  that 
showed  what  value  the  loss  of  the  horse  and  fire-water,  the 
only  other  trophies  of  victory,  led  them  to  attach  to  him. 
A  stake  was  cut  and  laid  across  his  breast,  and  to  the  ends 
of  this  his  out-stretched  arms  were  bound  at  both  wrist 
and  elbow.  A  pole  was  then  laid  upon  his  body,  to  the 
extremities  of  which  his  feet  and  neck  were  also  bound ;  so 
that  he  was  secured  as  upon,  or  rather  under,  a  cross,  with- 
out the  power  of  moving  hand  or  foot.  As  if  even  this 
were  not  enough  to  satisfy  his  barbarous  companions,  they 
attached  an  additional  cord  to  his  neck;  and  this,  when 
they  lay  down  beside  him  to  sleep,  one  of  the  young  war- 
riors wrapped  several  times  round  his  own  arm,  so  that 
the  slightest  movement  of  the  prisoner,  were  such  a  thing 
possible,  must  instantly  rouse  the  jealous  savage  from  his 
slumbers. 

These  preparations  being  completed,  the  young  men  lay 
down,  one  on  each  side  of  the  prisoner,  and  were  soon  fast 
asleep. 

The  old  Piankeshaw,  meanwhile,  sat  by  the  fire,  now 
musing  in  drunken  revelry, — "in  cogibundity  of  cogita- 


NICK   OP   THE   WOODS. 

tion," — now  grumbling  a  lament  for  his  perished  son, 
which,  by  a  natural  license  of  affliction,  he  managed  to 
intermingle  with  regrets  for  his  lost  liquor,  and  occasion- 
ally heaping  maledictions  upon  the  heads  of  his  wasteful 
companions,  or  soliciting  the  prisoner's  attention  to  an 
account  that  he  gave  him,  at  least  six  times  over,  of  the 
peculiar  ceremonies  which  would  be  observed  in  burning 
him,  when  once  safely  bestowed  in  the  Piankeshaw  nation. 
In  this  manner,  the  old  savage,  often  nodding,  but  always 
rousing,  again  succeeded  in  amusing  himself  nearly  half 
the  night  long;  and  it  was  not  until  near  midnight  that 
he  thought  fit,  after  stirring  up  the  fire,  and  adding  a  fresh 
log  to  it,  to  stretch  himself  beside  one  of  the  juniors,  and 
grumble  himself  to  sleep.  A  few  explosive  and  convulsive 
snorts,  such  as  might  have  done  honor  to  the  nostrils  of  a 
war-horse,  marked  the  gradations  by  which  he  sank  to  re- 
pose; then  came  the  deep,  long-drawn  breath  of  mental 
annihilation,  such  as  distinguished  the  slumber  of  his  com- 
panions. 

To  the  prisoner  alone  sleep  was  wholly  denied,  for  which 
the  renewed  agonies  of  his  bonds,  tied  with  the  supreme 
contempt  for  suffering  which  always  marks  the  conduct  of 
savages  to  their  captives,  would  have  been  sufficient  cause, 
had  there  even  been  no  superior  pangs  of  spirit  to  banish 
the  comforter  from  his  eyelids.  Of  his  feelings,  during  the 
journey  from  the  river,  which,  in  consequence  of  number- 
less delays  caused  by  the  old  Piankeshaw's  drunkenness, 
could  scarce  have  been  left  more  than  eight  or  ten  miles 
behind — we  have  said  but  little,  since  imagination  can  only 
picture  them  properly  to  the  reader. 

Grief,  anguish,  despair,  and  the  sense  of  degradation 
natural  to  a  man  of  spirit,  a  slave  in  the  hands  of  coarse 
barbarians,  kept  his  spirit  for  a  long  time  wholly  subdued 
and  torpid;  and  it  was  not  until  he  perceived  the  old 
Piankeshaw's  repeated  potations  and  their  effects,  that  he 
began  to  wake  from  his  lethargy,  and  question  himself 
whether  he  might  not  yet  escape,  and,  flying  to  the  nearest 
settlements  for  assistance,  strike  a  blow  for  the  recovery  of 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  217 

his  kinswoman.  Weak  from  exhaustion  and  wounds,  en- 
tirely unarmed,  and  closely  watched,  as  he  perceived  he 
was,  by  the  young  warriors,  notwithstanding  their  affected 
friendship,  it  was  plain  that  nothing  could  be  hoped  for, 
except  from  caution  on  his  part,  and  the  most  besotted 
folly  on  that  of  his  captors.  This  folly  was  already  made 
perceptible  in  at  least  one  of  the  party ;  and  as  he  watched 
the  oft-repeated  visitations  of  the  senior  to  the  little  keg, 
he  began  to  anticipate  the  period  when  the  young  men* 
should  also  betake  themselves  to  the  stupefying  draught, 
and  give  him  the  opportunity  he  longed  for  with  frantic, 
though  concealed,  impatience. 

This  hope  fell  when  the  cask  was  dashed  to  pieces;  but 
hope,  once  excited,  did  not  easily  forsake  him.  He  had 
heard  and  read  of  escapes  made  by  captives  like  himself 
from  Indians  when  encamped  by  night  in  the  woods, — nay, 
of  escapes  made  wrhen  the  number  of  captors  and  the 
feebleness  of  the  captive  (for  even  women  and  boys  had 
thus  obtained  their  deliverance),  rendered  the  condition  of 
the  latter  still  more  wretched  than  his  own.  Why  might 
not  he,  a  man  and  soldier,  guarded  by  only  three  foemen, 
succeed,  as  others  had  succeeded,  in  freeing  himself  ? 

This  question,  asked  over  and  over  again,  and  each  time 
answered  with  greater  hope  and  animation  than  before, 
employed  his  mind  until  his  wary  captors  had  tied  him  to 
the  stakes,  as  has  been  mentioned,  leaving  him  as  incapable 
of  motion  as  if  every  limb  has  been  solidified  into  stone. 
Had  the  barbarians  been  able  to  look  into  his  soul  at  the 
moment  when  he  first  strove  to  test  the  strength  of  the 
ligatures,  and  found  them  resisting  his  efforts  like  bands 
of  brass,  they  would  have  beheld  deeper  and  wilder  tor- 
tures than  any  they  could  hope  to  inflict,  even  at  the  stake. 
The  effort  was  repeated  once,  twice,  thrice — a  thousand 
times — but  always  in  vain ;  the  cords  were  too  securely  tied, 
the  stakes  too  carefully  placed,  to  yield  to  his  puny  strug- 
gles. He  was  a  prisoner  in  reality — without  resource, 
without  help,  without  hope. 

And  thus  he  passed  the  whole  of  the  bitter  night,  watch- 


218  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

ing  the  slow  progress  of  moments  counted  only  by  the 
throbbings  of  his  fevered  temples,  the  deep  breathings  of 
the  Indians,  and  the  motion  of  the  stars  creeping  over  the 
vista  opened  to  the  skies  from  the  little  glade,  a  prey  to 
despair,  made  so  much  more  poignant  by  disappointment 
and  self-reproach.  Why  had  he  not  taken  advantage  of 
his  temporary  release  from  the  cords,  to  attempt  escape 
by  open  flight,  when  the  drunkenness  of  the  old  Pianke- 
shaw  would  have  increased  the  chances  of  success  ?  He  had 
lost  his  best  ally  in  the  cask  of  liquor;  but  he  resolved — 
if  the  delirious  plans  of  a  mind  tossed  by  the  most  frensied 
passions  could  be  called  resolutions, — a  second  day  should 
not  pass  by  without  an  effort  better  becoming  a  soldier,  bet- 
ter becoming  the  only  friend  and  natural  protector  of  the 
hapless  Edith. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  night  passed  slowly  away;  the 
moon,  diminished  to  a  ghastly  crescent,  rose  over  the 
woods,  looking  down  with  a  sickly  smile  upon  the  prisoner, 
— an  emblem  of  his  decayed  fortunes  and  waning  hopes; 
and  a  pale  streak,  the  first  dull  glimmer  of  dawn,  was 
seen  stealing  up  the  skies.  But  neither  moon  nor  streak 
of  dawn  yet  threw  light  upon  the  little  glade.  The  watch- 
fire  had  burned  nearly  away,  and  its  flames  no  longer  illu- 
minated the  scene.  The  crackling  of  the  embers,  with  an 
occasional  echo  from  the  wood  hard  by,  as  of  the  rustling 
of  a  rabbit,  or  other  small  animal,  drawn  by  the  unusual 
appearance  of  fire  near  his  favorite  fountain,  to  satisfy  a 
timorous  curiosity,  was  the  only  sound  to  be  heard;  for 
the  Indians  were  in  the  dead  sleep  of  morning,  and  their 
breathing  was  no  longer  audible. 

The  silence  and  darkness  together  were  doubly  painful 
to  Eoland,  who  had  marked  the  streak  of  dawn,  and  longed 
with  fierce  impatience  for  the  moment  when  he  should  be 
again  freed  from  his  bonds,  and  left  to  attempt  some  of 
those  desperate  expedients  which  he  had  been  planning  all 
the  night  long.  In  such  a  frame  of  mind,  even  the  acci- 
dental falling  of  a  half-consumed  brand  upon  the  embers, 
and  its  sudden  kindling  into  flame,  were  circumstances  of 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

an  agreeable  nature ;  and  the  ruddy  glare  thrown  over  the 
boughs  above  his  head  was  welcomed  as  the  return  of  a 
friend,  bringing  with  it  hope,  and  even  a  share  of  his  long- 
lost  tranquillity. 

But  tranquillity  was  not  fated  to  dwell  long  in  his 
bosom.  At  that  very  moment,  and  while  the  blaze  of  the 
brand  was  brightest,  his  ears  were  stunned  by  an  explosion 
bursting  like  a  thunderbolt  at  his  very  head,  but  whether 
i  coming  from  earth  or  air,  from  the  hands  of  heaven  or  the 
fire-lock  of  a  human  being,  he  knew  not;  and  immediately 
after  there  sprang  a  huge  dark  shadow  over  his  body,  and 
there  was  heard  a  crash  as  of  an  axe  falling  upon  the  flesh 
of  the  young  Indian  who  slept  on  his  right  side.  A  dis- 
mal shriek,  the  utterance  of  agony  and  terror,  rose  from 
the  barbarian's  lips ;  and  then  came  the  sound  of  his  foot- 
steps, as  he  darted,  with  a  cry  still  wilder,  into  the  forest, 
pursued  by  the  sound  of  other  steps;  and  then  all  again 
was  silent, — all  save  the  groans,  and  the  rustling  in  the 
grass,  of  limbs  convulsed  in  the  death-throe  at  the  soldier's 
side. 

Astounded,  bewildered,  and  even  horror-struck,  by  these 
incomprehensible  events,  the  work  of  but  an  instant,  and 
all  unseen  by  Eoland,  who,  from  his  position,  could  look 
only  upwards  towards  the  boughs  and  skies,  he  would  have 
thought  himself  in  a  dream,  but  for  the  agonized  struggles 
of  the  young  Indian  at  his  side,  which  he  could  plainly 
feel  as  well  as  hear ;  until  by  and  by  they  subsided,  as  if  in 
sudden  death.  Was  it  a  rescue?  was  that  shot  fired  by  a 
friend  ?  that  axe  wielded  by  a  human  auxiliary  ?  those 
sounds  of  feet  dying  away  in  the  distance,  were  they  the 
steps  of  a  deliverer?  The  thought  was  ecstasy,  and  he 
shouted  aloud,  "Keturn,  friend,  and  loose  me!  return!" 

No  voice  replied  to  the  shout;  but  it  roused  from  the 
earth  a  dark  and  bloody  figure,  which,  staggering  and  fall- 
ing over  the  body  of  the  young  warrior,  crawled  like  a 
scotched  reptile  upon  Eoland's  breast;  when  the  light  of 
the  fire  shining  upon  it  revealed  to  his  eyes  the  horrible 
spectacle  of  the  old  Piankeshaw  warrior,  the  lower  part  of 


220  KICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

his  face  shot  entirely  away,  and  his  eyes  rolling  hideously, 
and,  as  it  seemed,  sightlessly,  in  the  pangs  of  death,  his 
hand  clutching  the  knife  with  which  he  had  so  often 
threatened,  and  with  which  he  yet  seemed  destined  to  take, 
though  in  the  last  gasp  of  his  own,  the  soldier's  life.  With 
one  hand  he  felt  along  the  prisoner's  body,  as  if  seeking  a 
vital  part,  and  sustained  his  own  weight,  while  with  the 
other  he  made  repeated,  though  feeble  and  ineffectual, 
strokes  with  the  knife,  all  the  time  rolling,  and  staggering, 
and  shaking  his  gory  head  in  a  manner  most  horrible  to 
behold.  But  vengeance  was  denied  the  dying  warrior ;  his 
blows  were  offered  impotently  and  without  aim ;  and,  be- 
coming weaker  at  every  effort,  his  left  arm  at  last  failed 
to  support  him,  and  he  fell  across  Koland's  body ;  in  which 
position  he  immediately  after  expired. 

In  this  frightful  condition  Koland  was  left,  shocked, 
although  relieved  from  fear,  by  the  savage's  death,  crying 
in  vain  to  his  unknown  auxiliary  for  assistance.  He  ex- 
erted his  voice,  until  the  woods  rang  with  his  shouts;  but 
hollow  echoes  were  the  only  replies;  neither  voice  nor  re- 
turning footsteps  was  to  be  heard;  and  it  seemed  as  if  he 
had  been  rescued  from  the  Indians'  hands,  only  to  be  left, 
bound  and  helpless,  to  perish  piecemeal  among  their  bodies. 
The  fear  of  a  fate  so  dreadful,  with  the  weight  of  the  old 
Piankeshaw,  a  man  of  almost  gigantic  proportions,  lying 
upon  his  bosom,  was  more  than  his  agonized  spirits  and 
exhausted  strength  could  endure;  and  his  wounds  sud- 
denly bursting  out  afresh,  he  lapsed  into  a  state  of  insensi- 
bility,— in  which,  however,  it  was  happily  his  fate  not  long 
to  remain. 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

Never  did  captive  with  a  freer  heart 

Cast  off  his  chains  of  bondage,  and  embrace 

His  golden,  uncontrolPd  enfranchisement. 

—Richard  II. 

WHEN  Roland  recovered  his  consciousness,  he  was  no 
longer  a  prisoner  extended  beneath  the  Indian  cross.  His 
limbs  were  unbound,  and  he  himself  lying  across  the  knees 
of  a  man  who  was  busily  engaged  sprinkling  his  head  and 
breast  with  water  from  the  little  well,  to  which  he  had  been 
borne  while  still  insensible.  He  stared  around  him  with 
eyes  yet  filmy  and  vacant.  The  first  objects  they  fell  on 
were  two  lifeless  figures,  the  bodies  of  his  late  savage  mas- 
ters, stretched  near  the  half-extinguished  fire.  He  looked 
up  to  the  face  of  his  deliverer,  which  could  be  readily  seen, 
for  it  was  now  broad  day,  and  beheld,  with  such  thrill  of 
pleasure  as  had  not  visited  his  bosom  for  many  weary  days, 
the  features  of  his  trusty  guide  and  emissary,  honest  Na- 
than Slaughter,  who  was  pursuing  the  work  of  resuscita- 
tion with  great  apparent  zeal,  while  little  dog  Peter  stood 
by  wagging  his  tail,  as  if  encouraging  him  to  perseverance. 

"What,  Nathan !"  he  cried,  grasping  at  his  hand,  and 
endeavoring,  though  vainly,  to  rise  from  his  knee,  "do  I 
dream  !  is  it  you  ?" 

"Verily,  thee  speaks  the  truth,"  replied  Nathan; — "it 
is  me — me  and  little  Peter;  and,  truly,  it  is  nobody  else." 

"And  I  am  free  again?  free,  free!  And  the  savages? 
the  vile,  murdering  Piankeshaws  ?  Dead !  surprised,  killed 
— every  dog  of  them !" 

"Thee  speaks  the  truth  a  second  time,"  said  Nathan 
Slaughter,  snuffling  and  hesitating  in  his  speech;  "the 
wicked  enemies  and  captivates  will  never  trouble  thee 
more." 

'And  who — who  was  it  that  rescued  me?  Hah!  there 
is  blood  on  your  face !  your  hands  are  red  with  it !  It  was 
you,  tben,  that  saved  me  ?  you  that  killed  the  accursed  cut- 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

throats  ?  Noble  Nathan !  brave  Nathan !  true  Nathan ! 
how  shall  I  ever  requite  the  act — how  shall  I  ever  forget 
it?"  And  as  he  spoke,  the  soldier,  yet  lying  across  Na- 
than's knees,  for  his  limbs  refused  to  support  him,  grasped 
his  preserver's  hands  with  a  fervor  of  gratitude  that  gave 
new  life  and  vigor  to  his  exhausted  spirits. 

"And  thee  does  not  think  then,"  muttered  Nathan, 
snuffling  twice  as  much  as  before,  but  growing  bolder  as 
Roland's  gratitude  reassured  him — "thee  does  not  think — 
that  is,  thee  is  not  of  opinion — that  is  to  say,  thee  does  not 
altogether  hold  it  to  be  as  a  blood-guiltiness,  and  a  wicked- 
ness, and  a  shedding  of  blood,  that  I  did  take  to  me  the 
weapon  of  war,  and  shoot  upon  the  wicked  oppressors,  to 
the  saving  of  thee  life  ?  Truly,  friend,  it  was  to  save  thee 
life — thee  must  remember  that;  it  was  as  a  thing  that  was 
necessary,  and  not  to  be  helped.  Truly,  friend,  it  was  my 
desire  to  help  thee  in  peace,  and  with  a  peaceful  hand; 
but,  of  a  truth,  there  was  thee  enemies  at  thee  side,  with 
their  guns  and  their  knives  ready  to  start  up  and  knock  out 
thee  unfortunate  brains.  Truly,  friend,  thee  sees  it 
couldn't  be  helped;  and,  truly,  I  don't  think  thee  con- 
science can  condemn  me." 

"Condemn  you  indeed!"  cried  the  young  man;  "it  was 
an  act  to  bind  my  gratitude  for  ever — an  act  to  win  you 
the  admiration  and  respect  of  the  whole  world,  which  I 
shall  take  care  to  make  acquainted  with  it." 

"Nay,  friend,"  said  Nathan,  hastily,  "the  less  thee  says 
of  it  the  better;  if  thee  is  theeself  satisfied  in  thee  con- 
science of  its  lawfulness,  it  is  enough.  Do  thee  there- 
fore hold  thee  tongue  on  this  and  all  other  matters  wherein 
thee  has  seen  me  do  evil ;  for,  truly,  I  am  a  man  of  peaceful 
faith,  and  what  I  have  done  would  be  but  as  a  grief  and 
a  scandal  to  the  same." 

"But  my  friends — my  poor  Edith! — wretch  that  I  am 
to  think  of  myself,  or  of  others,  while  she  is  still  a  cap- 
tive !"  cried  Roland,  again  endeavoring  to  rise.  But  his 
limbs,  yet  paralyzed  from  the  tightness  with  which  the 
thongs  ha4  been  bound  around  them,,  tottered  beneath 


NICK   OF   THE    WOODS. 

and  but  for  Nathan,  he  must  have  fallen  to  the  earth. 
"The  emigrants,"  he  continued,  with  incoherent  haste; — 
"you  brought  them !  They  are  pursuing  the  savages  ?  they 
have  rescued  her?  Speak,  Nathan — tell  me  all;  tell  me 
that  my  cousin  is  free !" 

"Truly,  friend,"  muttered  Nathan,  his  countenance  los- 
ing much  of  the  equanimity  that  had  begun  to  cover  it,\ 
and  assuming  a  darker  and  disturbed  expression,  "thee 
doth  confuse  both  theeself  and  me  with  many  questions. 
Do  thee  be  content  for  awhile,  till  I  chafe  thee  poor  legs, 
which  is  like  the  legs  of  a  dead  man,  and  tie  up  thee 
wounds.  When  thee  can  stand  up  and  walk,  thee  shall 
know  all  I  have  to  tell  thee,  both  good  and  bad.  It  is 
enough  thee  is  theeself  safe/' 

"Alas !  I  read  it  all  from  your  looks,"  cried  the  so!  iier ; 
"Edith  is  still  a  prisoner ;  and  I  lie  here  a  miserable  crushed 
worm,  incapable  of  aiding,  unable  even  to  die  for  her! 
But  the  emigrants,  my  friends?  they  are  at  least  urging 
the  pursuit  ?  there  is  a  hope  they  will  retake  her  ?" 

"Truly,  friend,"  said  Nathan,  "thee  shall  know  all,  if 
thee  will  but  have  patience,  and  hold  thee  tongue.  Truly, 
the  many  things  thee  says  doth  perplex  me.  If  thee  loves 
thee  poor  kinswoman,  and  would  save  her  from  cruel  bond- 
age and  sorrow,  thee  must  be  quiet  till  I  have  put  thee 
again  upon  thee  legs ;  which  is  the  first  thing  to  be  thought 
about;  and  after  that,  thee  shall  have  my  counsel  and 
help  to  do  what  is  good  and  proper  for  the  maiden's  re- 
deeming." 

With  these  words,  Nathan  again  addressed  himself  to 
the  task  of  chafing  Roland's  half-lifeless  limbs,  and  bind- 
ing up  the  several  light,  though  painful  wounds  which  he 
had  received  in  the  conflict;  and  the  soldier  submitting 
in  despair,  though  still  entreating  Nathan  to  tell  him  the 
worst,  the  latter  began  at  last  to  relate  his  story. 

The  bold  attempt  of  Nathan  to  pass  the  line  of  besiegers 
at  the  ruin,  it  seemed,  he  had  accomplished  without  diffi- 
culty, though  not  without  risk ;  but  this  part  of  the  narra- 
tive he  hurried  over,  as  well  as  his  passage  of  the  river  at 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

a  solitary  and  dangerous  ford  in  the  wildest  recesses  of  the 
forest.  Then,  striking  through  the  woods,  and  aiming  for 
the  distant  station,  he  had  arrived  within  but  a  few  miles 
of  it  when  it  was  his  fortune  to  stumble  upon  the  band  of 
Regulators,  who,  after  their  memorable  exploit  at  the  beech- 
tree,  had  joined  the  emigrants,  then  on  their  march  through 
the  woods,  and  conveyed  them  to  the  station. 

Here  passing  the  night  in  mirth  and  frolic,  they  were 
startled  at  an  early  hour  by  the  alarming  intelligence, 
brought  by  a  volunteer  hunter,  who  had  obtained  it  none 
could  tell  how,  of  the  presence  of  the  Indian  army  on  the 
north  side ;  and  leaving  their  friends  to  arm  and  follow  as 
they  could,  the  rr  .^»  immediately  mounted  their  horses 
to  return  to  Bruce  s  stcition,  and  thence  to  seek  the  field  of 
battl  >.  To  these  unexpected  friends,  thus  opportunely  met 
in  the  woods,  Nathan  imparted  his  story,  acquainting  them, 
in  the  same  words  of  the  presence  of  enemies  so  much 
nearer  at  hand  than  was  dreamed,  and  of  the  unfortunate 
dilemma  of  Forrester  and  his  helpless  party — an  account 
that  fired  the  blood  of  the  hot  youths  as  effectually  as  it 
could  have  done  if  expressed  in  the  blast  of  a  bugle. 

A  council  of  war  being  called  on  the  spot,  it  was  resolved 
to  gallop  at  once  to  the  rescue  of  the  travellers,  without 
wasting  time  in  seeking  additional  assistance  from  the 
emigrants  or  their  neighbors  of  the  station  just  left; 
which  indeed,  as  from  Nathan's  observations,  it  did  not 
seem  that  the  numbers  of  the  foe  could  be  more  than  double 
their  own,  the  heroic  youths  held  to  be  entirely  needless. 
Taking  Nathan  up,  therefore,  behind  him,  and  bearing 
him  along  to  point  out  the  position  of  the  Indians,  the 
gallant  Tom  Bruce,  followed  by  his  equally  gallant  com- 
panions, dashed  through  the  woods,  and  succeeded  by  day- 
break in  reaching  the  ruin;  where,  as  Nathan  averred,  so 
judiciously  had  they  laid  their  plans  for  the  attack,  the 
Indians,  if  still  there,  might  have  been  surprised,  entirely 
worsted,  and  perhaps  the  half  of  them  cut  off  upon  the 
spot;  "which,"  as  he  rather  hastily  observed,  "would  have 
been  a  great  comfort  to  all  concerned/' 


NICK   OF   THE   WOODS.  225 

But  the  ruin  was  deserted,  besiegers  and  besieged  had 
alike  vanished,  as  well  as  the  bodies  of  those  assailants 
who  had  fallen  in  the  conflict,  to  find  their  graves  under 
the  ruins,  among  the  rocks,  or  in  the  whirling  eddies  of 
the  river.  The  tracks  of  the  horses  being  discovered  in 
the  ravine  and  at  the  water's  edge,  it  was  inferred  that  the 
whole  party,  too  desperate,  or  too  wise,  to  yield  themselves 
prisoners,  had  been  driven  into  the  river,  and  there 
drowned;  and  this  idea  inflaming  the  fury  of  the  Ken- 
tuckians  to  the  highest  pitch,  they  sought  out  and  easily 
discovered  among  the  canes,  the  fresh  trail  of  the  Indians, 
which  they  followed,  resolving  to  exact  the  fullest  measure 
of  revenge. 

Nathan,  the  man  of  peace,  from  whom  (for  he  had  not 
thought  proper  to  acquaint  the  young  men  with  the  war- 
like part  he  had  himself  taken  in  the  battles  of  the  night) 
no  further  services  were  expected,  was  now  turned  adrift, 
to  follow,  or  protect  himself  as  he  might;  and  the  young 
men  betook  themselves  to  the  pursuit  with  as  much  speed 
as  the  wild  character  of  the  woods  permitted.  But  it 
formed  no  part  of  honest  Nathan's  designs  to  be  left  be- 
hind. His  feelings  were  too  deeply  involved  in  the  fate 
of  the  unhappy  individuals,  whose  misadventures  he  could, 
or  thought  he  could,  so  clearly  trace  to  his  own  indiscre- 
tion, to  suffer  him  to  rest,  while  it  was  yet  wrapped  in 
obscurity.  He  had  accepted  the  charge  and  responsibility 
of  extricating  them  from  their  perils;  and  his  conscience 
could  not  be  appeased  until  he  had  determined  for  himself 
whether  in  truth  they  were  yet  beyond  the  reach  of  as- 
sistance. 

Making  his  own  observations  from  the  appearance  of 
the  different  tracks  in  the  ravine,  and  satisfying  himself 
there  was  among  them  one  more  Christian  footprint  than 
could  be  accounted  for,  he  followed  after  the  young  men, 
examining  the  Indian  trail  in  places  where  it  had  not  been 
effaced  by  the  Kentuckians,  until  he  became  convinced 
that  the  fugitives  had,  in  some  unaccountable  way,  escaped 
alive  from  the  river,  and  were  still  struggling  in  retreat, 


226  KICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

led  by  some  friendly  guide,  although  closely  pursued  by  the 
foe.  This  discovery,  it  was  also  probable,  had  been  made 
by  the  Kentuckians,  who  had,  in  consequence,  urged  their 
horses  to  the  utmost,  and  arriving  on  the  hill  where  the 
savages  lay  in  ambush,  rushed  to  the  attack,  and  fought 
and  lost  the  battle  before  Nathan  could  reach  them.  He 
met  them,  indeed,  retreating  in  full  rout  before  the  vic 
tors,  many  wounded,  all  overcome  by  panic,  and  none  will- 
ing or  able  to  throw  any  light  upon  the  cause  of  defeat. 

One,  indeed,  checking  his  horse  a  moment  to  bid  the 
man  of  peace  look  to  himself  and  avoid  the  savages,  who 
were  still  urging  the  pursuit,  hastily  assured  him  that  the 
defeat  was  all  owing  to  Captain  Ralph's  ghost,  which  had 
suddenly  got  among  them,  yelling  for  vengeance  on  his 
executioners;  for  which  reason  the  conscience-stricken 
Regulator  called  Nathan  to  witness  his  oath,  which  he 
now  made,  "that  he  would  never  lynch  a  man  again  as 
long  as  he  lived."  And  the  worthy  warrior,  having 
added,  with  another  oath,  which  he  called  a  still  superior 
power  to  attest,  "that  he  had  seen  Stackpole  fly  off  with 
Tom  Bruce's  soul  on  the  back  of  a  devil  in  shape  of  a 
big  black  horse  breathing  flames  and  sulphur,"  struck  spur 
again  into  his  own  charger — not,  however,  until  he  had 
first  generously  invited  Bloody  Nathan  to  get  up  behind 
him,  to  escape  the  savage  pursuers  who  were  now  seen 
close  behind. 

Declining  the  heroic  offer,  and  bidding  the  youth  effect 
his  own  escape,  Nathan  immediately  dived,  with  his  in- 
separable friend  and  adviser,  little  Peter,  among  the  canes ; 
where  he  lay  concealed  until  well  assured  the  victors  had 
abandoned  the  pursuit,  and  returned  to  the  field  of  battle. 

"Then,  friend,"  said  the  man  of  peace,  who  may  now  be 
permitted  to  tell  his  own  story,  "I  took  counsel  of  Peter 
as  to  what  we  should  do ;  and,  truly,  it  was  our  opinion  we 
should  creep  after  the  murdering  Shawnee  creatures 
(though,  verily,  there  was  more  than  Shawnees  engaged  in 
this  wicked  business)  and  see  what  had  become  of  thee, 
and  thee  poor  women ;  being  that  we  were  in  a  manner,  as 


NICK   OF   THE    WOODS. 

I  may  say,  the  cause  of  thee  troubles,  in  carrying  thee  to 
the  very  place  where  we  should  not,  wicked  sinners  that  we 
are — that  is,  wicked  sinner  that  /  am;  for,  truly,  little 
Peter  had  nothing  to  do  with  that  matter,  having  done  his 
best  to  keep  us  from  the  ruin. 

"Well,  friend,  as  soon  as  we  thought  it  safe,  we  crept 
to  the  spot  on  the  hillside;  and  safe  enough  it  was,  the 
savages  having  departed,  leaving  nothing  behind  them, 
save  two  young  Kentuckians,  and  the  colored  person,  whom 
they  had  prevailed  over,  and  hewn  to  pieces  with  their 
hatchets;  besides  four  corpses  of  their  own,  which  they 
had  stuck  in  a  cave,  where  Peter  snuffed  them  out — truly, 
friend,  thee  don't  know  what  a  nose  little  Peter  has !  Well, 
friend,  I  saw  then  that  thee  enemies  had  divided,  the  main 
body  departing  one  way  over  the  hill,  while  a  smaller  party 
had  crossed  the  river  with  a  horse  and  prisoner.  Truly, 
it  was  Peter's  opinion  that  this  prisoner  was  theeself, — 
thee  own  very  self  (a  thing  I  could  not  be  so  certain  of  on 
my  part,  seeing  that  I  had  never  tracked  thee  save  by  thee 
horse-prints  only),  and  that,  if  we  followed  thee,  we  might, 
in  some  way,  aid  thee  to  escape,  thee  captivators  being  so 
few  in  number. 

"And  so,  friend,  we  waded  the  river,  and  followed  thee 
trail  until  night  came ;  when  little  Peter  undertook  to  nose 
thee  on  in  the  dark !  which  he  did  very  successfully,  until 
we  reached  the  place  where  the  savages  had  killed  their 
horse  and  broken  their  cask  of  liquor;  when,  truly,  the 
scent  of  the  same  did  so  prevail  over  Peter's  nose,  that  I 
was  in  fear  he  never  would  smell  right  again  in  all  his  life ; 
which  was  a  great  grief  to  me;  for,  truly,  Peter's  nose  is, 
as  I  may  say,  the  staff  of  my  life,  my  defence,  and  my  suc- 
cour— (truly,  thee  don't  know  the  value  of  little  Peter's 
nose!)  And,  moreover,  the  savor  of  the  dead  horse  did 
somewhat  captivate  his  attention;  for,  truly,  little  Peter  is 
but  a  dog,  and  he  loves  horse-flesh. 

"Well,  friend,  this  was  a  thing  that  perplexed  me ;  until, 
by  and  by,  having  brought  little  Peter  to  reason  in  the 
matter  of  the  horse,  and  wasted  his  nose  in  a  brook  which 


228  NICK   OF    THE   WOODS. 

it  was  my  fortune  to  discover,  he  did  bethink  him  what  he 
was  after,  and  so  straightway  hunt  for  the  track;  which 
being  recovered,  we  went  on  our  way,  until  we  lighted  right 
on  thee  captivators'  camp-fire ;  and,  truly,  we  lighted  upon 
it  much  sooner  than  we  expected. 

"Well,  friend,"  continued  the  narrator,  "having  crept 
up  as  near  as  I  durst,  I  could  see  how  thee  was  fixed,  tied 
to  the  poles  so  thee  could  not  help  theeself,  and  the  three 
savages  lying  beside  thee,  with  their  guns  in  the  hollows  of 
their  arms,  ready  to  be  seized  in  a  moment.  Truly,  friend, 
the  sight  threw  me  into  another  perplexity;  and  I  lay 
watching  thee  and  thee  cruel  oppressors  for  more  than  an 
hour,  marveling  in  what  way  I  could  give  thee  help." 

"An  hour !"  cried  Eoland ;  "a  friend  lying  by  me  during 
that  hour,  the  most  wretched  and  distracted  of  my  whole 
existence !  Had  you  but  cut  the  rope,  and  given  me  the 
knife  to  strike  a  blow  for  myself !" 

"Trul},"  said  the  man  of  peace,  "I  did  so  desire  to  do, 
seeing  that  then  thee  might  have  killed  the  Injuns  theeself ; 
which  would  have  been  more  seemly,  as  being  a  thing  thee 
conscience  would  not  disapprove  of;  whereas  mine,  as  thee 
may  suppose,  was  quite  averse  to  any  such  bloody  doings 
on  my  own  part.  But,  truly,  I  durst  not  adventure  upon 
the  thing  thee  speaks  of;  for,  first,  I  saw  by  the  stick  on 
thee  breast,  thee  was  tied  so  tight  and  fast,  it  would  be  an 
hour's  work  to  cut  thee  loose, — thee  captivators  lying  by 
all  the  while;  and,  secondly,  I  knew  by  the  same  reason, 
thee  limb  would  be  so  numb  thee  could  neither  stand  upon 
thee  legs,  nor  hold  a  weapon  in  thee  hand,  for  just  as  long 
a  time;  and  beside,  I  feared,  in  case  thee  should  discover 
there  was  help  nigh  at  hand,  thee  might  cry  out  in  thee 
surprise,  and  so  alarm  thee  sleeping  captivators. 

"And  so,  friend,  I  was  in  what  thee  might  call  a  pucker, 
not  knowing  what  to  do;  and  so  I  lay  hard  by  thee,  with 
Peter  at  the  back  of  me,  watching  and  revolving  the  matter 
for  that  whole  hour,  as  I  told  thee;  when  suddenly  down 
fell  a  stick  into  the  fire,  and  the  same  blazing  up  brightly, 
I  saw  two  of  the  savages  lying  beside  thee,  their  heads  so 


KICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

close  together,  thee  might  have  supposed  they  both  grew 
from  the  same  pair  of  shoulders,  and  so  nigh  to  me  withal, 
that,  verily,  I  might  have  poked  them  with  the  muzzle  of 
my  gun. 

"Truly,  friend,"  continued  Nathan,  looking  both  be- 
wildered and  animated,  as  he  arrived  at  this  period  )f  his 
story,  "I  can't  tell  thee  how  it  then  happened, — whether  it 
was  a  sort  of  nervousness  in  my  fingers'  ends,  or  whether 
it  was  all  an  accident;  but,  truly,  as  it  happened,  my  gun 
went  off  in  my  hands,  as  it  might  be  of  its  own  accord, 
and  truly  it  blew  the  two  evil  creatures'  brains  out !  And 
then,  friend,  thee  sees,  there  was  no  stopping,  there  being 
the  third  of  thee  captivators  to  look  after ;  and  truly,  as  I 
had  done  so  much,  I  thought  I  might  as  well  do  all, — the 
killing  of  three  men  being  but  a  litlte  worse  than  the  kill- 
ing of  two ;  and,  besides,  the  creature  would  have  hurt  thee, 
as  thee  lay  at  his  mercy.  And  so,  friend,  I  did  verily 
spring  upon  him,  sinner  that  I  am,  and  strike  him  a  blow 
with  my  hatchet,  which  I  had  taken  from  my  belt  to  be 
ready;  whereupon  he  fled,  and  I  after  him,  being  in  great 
fear  lest,  if  he  escaped,  he  should  return  upon  thee  and  kill 
thee,  before  I  could  get  back  to  cut  thee  loose.  And  so, 
friend,  it  happened  that  I  killed  him  likewise ! — for  which 
I  don't  think  thee  can,  in  thee  heart,  blame  me,  seeing  that 
it  was  all  over  and  over  again  on  thee  account,  and  no- 
body else's.  Truly,  friend,  it  is  quite  amazing,  thee  ill 
things  thee  hast  brought  me  to !" 

"Had  there  been  twenty  of  the  villains,  and  you  had 
killed  them  all,  I  should  have  held  it  the  noblest  and  rcost 
virtuous  act  you  could  have  performed,"  said  Roland,  too 
fiercely  agitated  by  his  own  contending  passions  to  note 
the  strange  medley  of  self-accusing  and  exculpatory  ex- 
pressions, the  shame-faced,  conscience-stricken  looks,  al- 
ternating with  gleams  of  military  fire  and  self-compla- 
cency, with  which  the  man  of  peace  recounted  his  bloody 
exploit,  or  the  adroit  attempt  with  which  ha  concluded  it, 
to  shuffle  the  responsibility  of  the  crime,  if  crime  it  were, 
from  his  own  to  the  young  Virginian's  shoulders.  At  an- 


230  NICK    OF   THE   WOODS. 

other  moment,  the  latter  might  have  speculated  with  as 
much  surprise  as  approval  on  the  extraordinary  metamor- 
phosis of  Nathan,  the  man  of  amity  and  good  will,  into  a 
slayer  of  Indians,  double  dyed  in  gore;  but  at  that  junc- 
ture, he  had  little  inclination  to  dwell  on  any  thing  savo 
his  own  liberation  and  the  hapless  fate  of  his  cousin. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Yon   gull,   Malvolio,   is   turned   heathen,   a   very   renegade. 

—Twelfth  Night. 
Mai.    Dispute  it  like  a  man. 
Mac.  I  shall  do  so; 

But  I  must  also  feel  it  like  a  man; 

I  cannot  but  remember  such  things  were, 

That  were  most  precious  to  me.     Did  heaven  look  on, 

And  would  not  take   their  part? 

— Macbeth. 

BY  dint  of  chafing  and  bathing  in  the  spring,  still  foul 
and  red  with  the  blood  of  the  Piankeshaws,  the  limbs  of 
the  soldier  soon  recovered  their  strength,  and  he  was  able 
to  rise,  to  survey  the  scene  of  his  late  sufferings  and  libera- 
tion, and  again  recur  to  the  harassing  subject  of  his  kins- 
woman's fate.  Again  he  beset  Bloody  Nathan, — now  un- 
doubtedly worthy  the  name — with  questions,  which  soon 
recalled  the  disturbed  looks  which  his  deliverer  had  worn 
when  first  assailed  with  interrogatories.  He  adjured  him 
to  complete  the  good  work  he  had  so  bravely  begun,  by 
leaving  himself  to  his  fate,  and  making  his  way  to  the  emi- 
grants, or  to  the  nearest  inhabited  station,  whence  assist- 
ance might  be  procured  to  pursue  the  savages  and  their 
captives,  before  it  might  be  too  late. 

"Lead  the  party  first  to  the  battle-ground,"  he  said;  "I 
am  now  as  a  child  in  strength,  but  I  can  crawl  thither  to 
meet  you;  and  once  on  a  horse  again,  be  assured  no  one 
shall  pursue  better  or  faster  than  I." 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"If  thee  thinks  of  rescuing  the  maiden — "  said  Nathan. 

"I  will  do  so,  or  die,"  exclaimed  Eoland,  impetuously; 
"and  would  to  heaven  I  could  die  twice  over,  so  I  might 
snatch  her  from  the  murdering  monsters.  Alas !  had  you 
but  followed  them,  instead  of  these  three  curs,  and  done 
that  service  to  Edith  you  have  done  to  me  I" 

"Truly,"  said  Nathan,  "thee  talks  as  if  ten  men  were  as 
,  easily  knocked  on  the  head  as  ten  rabbits.  But,  hearken, 
friend,  and  do  thee  have  patience  for  a  while !  There  is  a 
thing  in  this  matter  that  perplexes  me;  and,  verily,  there 
is  two  or  three.  Why  did  thee  desert  the  ruin?  and  who 
was  it  led  thee  through  the  canes?  Let  me  know  what  it 
was  that  happened  thee;  for,  of  a  truth,  there  is  more  in 
this  same  matter  than  thee  thinks." 

Thus  called  upon,  Eoland  acquainted  Nathan  with  the 
events  that  had  succeeded  his  departure  from  the  ruin — 
the  appearance  of  Ealph  Stackpole,  and  the  flight  of  the 
party  by  the  river, — circumstances  that  moved  the  wonder 
and  admiration  of  Nathan — and  with  all  the  other  oc- 
currences up  to  the  moment  of  the  defeat  of  the  Ken- 
tuckians,  and  the  division  of  the  plunder  among  the  vic- 
torious Indians.  The  mention  of  these  spoils,  the  rifles, 
bolts  of  cloth,  beads,  bells,  and  other  gewgaw  trinkets,  pro- 
duced an  evident  impression  on  Nathan's  mind,  which  was 
greatly  increased  when  Eoland  related  the  scene  betwixt 
Telie  Doe  and  her  reprobate  father,  and  repeated  those 
expressions  which  seemed  to  show  that  the  attack  upon 
the  party  was  by  no  means  accidental,  but  the  result  of 
a  previously  formed  design,  of  which  she  was  not  ignorant. 

"Where  Abel  Doe  is,  there,  thee  may  be  sure,  there  is 
knavery,"  said  Nathan,  demanding  earnestly  if  Eoland 
had  seen  no  other  white  man  in  the  party. 

"I  saw  no  other,"  he  replied ;  "but  there  was  a  tall  man 
in  a  blanket,  wearing  a  red  turban,  who  looked  at  me  from 
a  distance ;  and  I  thought  he  was  a  half-breed,  like  Doe, — 
for  so,  at  first,  I  supposed  the  latter  to  be." 

"Well,  friend,  and  he  seemed  to  command  the  party,  did 
he  not  ?"  demanded  Nathan,  with  interest, 


232  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"The  leader,"  replied  Roland,  "was  a  vile,  grim  old 
rascal,  that  they  called  Kehauga,  or  Kenauga,  or " 

"Wenonga !"  cried  Nathan,  with  extraordinary  viracity, 
his  whole  countenance,  in  fact,  lighting  up  with  the  ani- 
mation of  intense  interest — "an  old  man,  tall  and  raw- 
boned,  a  scar  on  his  nose  and  cheek,  and  a  halt  in  his  gait, 
his  left  middle  finger  short  of  a  joint,  and  a  buzzard's  beak 
and  talons  tied  to  his  hair?  It  is  Wenonga,  the  Black 
"V  alture !  Truly,  little  Peter,  thee  is  but  a  dolt  and  a  dog, 
that  thee  told  me  nothing  about  it !" 

The  soldier  remarked  with  some  surprise  the  change  in 
Nathan's  visage,  and  with  still  more  his  angry  reproaches 
of  the  trusty  animal,  the  first  he  had  heard  him  utter. 

"And  who  then  is  the  old  Black  Vulture,"  he  asked,  "that 
he  should  drive  from  your  mind  even  the  thought  of 
my  poor  wretched  Edith?" 

"Thee  is  but  a  boy  in  the  woods_  if  thee  never  heard  of 
Wenonga,  the  Shawnee,"  replied  Nathan,  hastily — "a  man 
that  has  left  the  mark  of  his  axe  on  many  a  ruined  cabin 
along  the  frontier,  from  the  Bloody  Run  of  Bedford  to 
the  Kenhawa  and  the  Holston.  He  is  the  chief  that  boasts 
he  has  no  heart ;  and  truly  he  has  none,  being  a  man  that 
has  drunk  the  blood  of  women  and  children.  Friend !  thee 
kinswoman's  scalp  is  already  hanging  at  his  girdle !" 

This  horrible  announcement,  uttered  with  a  fierce  ear- 
nestness that  proved  the  sincerity  of  the  speaker,  froze  Ro- 
land's blood  in  his  veins,  and  he  stood  speechless  and  gasp- 
ing; until  Nathan,  noting  his  agitation,  and  recovering  in 
part  from  his  own  ferment  of  spirits,  exclaimed  even  more 
hastily  than  before — "Truly,  I  have  told  thee  what  is 
false — thee  kinswoman  is  safe — a  prisoner,  but  alive  and 
safe" 

"You  have  told  me  she  is  dead — murdered  by  the  foul 
assassins,"  said  Roland;  "and  if  it  be  so,  it  avails  not  to 
deny  it.  If  it  be  so,  Nathan,"  he  continued,  with  a  look 
of  desperation,  "I  call  heaven  and  earth  to  witness,  that  I 
will  pursue  the  race  of  the  slayers  with  thrice  the  fury  of 
their  own  malice — never  to  pause,  never  to  rest,  never  to 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

be  satisfied  with  vengeance,  while  an  Indian  lives  with 
blood  to  be  shed,  and  I  with  strength  to  shed  it." 

"Thee  speaks  like  a  man !"  said  Nathan,  grasping  the 
soldier's  hand,  and  fairly  crushing  it  in  his  grip — "that  is 
to  say/'  he  continued,  suddenly  letting  go  his  hold,  and 
seeming  somewhat  abashed  at  the  fervor  of  his  sympathy, 
"like  a  man,  according  to  thee  own  sense  of  matters  and^ 
things.  But  do  thee  be  content,  thee  poor  maid  is  alive,t 
and  like  to  be  so ;  and  that  thee  may  be  assured  of  it,  I  * 
will  soon  tell  thee  the  thing  that  is  on  thy  mind.  Friend, 
do  thee  answer  me  a  question.  Has  thee  any  enemy  among 
the  Injuns  ? — that  is  to  say,  any  reprobate  white  man  like 
this  Abel  Doe — who  would  do  thee  a  wrong  ?" 

The  soldier  stared  with  surprise,  and  replied  in  the 
negative. 

"Has  thee  no  foe  then  at  home,  whom  thee  has  theeself 
wronged  to  that  point  that  he  would  willingly  league  with 
murdering  Injuns  to  take  thee  life?" 

"I  have  my  enemies,  doubtless,  like  all  other  men,"  said 
Roland,  "but  none  so  basely,  so  improbably  malignant." 

"Verily,  then,  thee  makes  me  in  a  perplexity  as  before," 
said  Nathan;  "for  as  truly  as  thee  stands  before  me,  so 
truly  did  I  see,  that  night  when  I  left  thee  at  the  ruins, 
and  crawled  through  the  Injun  lines,  a  white  man  that  sat 
at  a  fire  with  Abel  Doe,  the  father  of  the  maid  Telie,  apart 
from  the  rest,  and  counselled  with  him  how  best  to  sack 
the  cabin,  without  killing  the  two  women.  Truly,  friend, 
it  was  a  marvel  to  myself,  there  being  so  many  of  the  mur- 
dering villains,  that  they  did  so  little  mischief;  but,  truly, 
it  was  because  of  the  women.  And,  truly,  there  was  foul 
knavery  between  these  two  men;  for  I  heard  high  words 
and  chaffering  between  them,  as  concerning  a  price  or  re- 
ward which  Abel  Doe  claimed  of  the  other  for  the  help  he 
was  rendering  him,  in  snapping  thee  up  with  thee  kins- 
woman. Truly,  thee  must  not  think  I  was  mistaken;  for 
seeing  the  man's  red  shawl  round  his  head  gleaming  in  the 
fire,  and  not  knowing  there  was  any  one  nigh  him  (for 
Abel  Doe  lay  flat  upon  the  earth)  a  wicked  thought  came 


234  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

into  my  heart ;  'for,  truly/  said  I,  'this  man  is  the  chief,  and 
being  alone,  a  man  might  strike  him  with  a  knife  from 
behind  the  tree  he  rests  against,  and  being  killed,  his  peo- 
ple will  fly  in  fear,  without  any  more  bloodshed ;'  but  creep- 
ing nearer,  I  saw  that  he  was  but  a  white  man  in  disguise ; 
and  so  having  listened  awhile,  to  hear  what  I  could,  and 
hearing  what  I  have  told  thee,  I  crept  away  on  my  jour- 
mey." 

The  effect  of  this  unexpected  revelation  upon  the  young 
Virginian  was  as  if  an  adder  had  suddenly  fastened  upon 
his  bosom.  It  awoke  a  suspicion,  involving  indeed  an  im- 
probability such  as  his  better  reason  revolted  at,  but  full 
of  pain  and  terror.  But  wild  and  incredible  as  it  seemed, 
it  received  a  kind  of  confirmation  from  what  Nathan  added. 

"The  rifle-guns,  the  beads,  and  the  cloth,"  he  said,  "that 
were  distributed  after  the  battle — does  thee  think  they  were 
plunder  taken  from  the  young  Kentuckians  they  had  van- 
quished? Friend,  these  things  were  a  price  with  which 
the  white  man  in  the  red  shawl  paid  the  assassin  villains 
for  taking  thee  prisoner — thee  and  thee  kinswoman.  His 
hirelings  were  vagabonds  of  all  the  neighboring  tribes, 
Shawnees,  Wyandots,  Delawares,  and  Piankeshaws,  as  I 
noted  well  when  I  crept  among  them ;  and  old  Wenonga  is 
the  greatest  vagabond  of  all,  having  long  since  been  de- 
graded by  his  tribe  for  bad  luck,  drunkenness,  and  other 
follies  natural  to  an  Injun.  My  own  idea  is,  that  that 
white  man  thirsted  for  thee  blood,  having  given  thee  up  to 
the  Piankeshaws,  who,  thee  says,  had  lost  one  of  their  men 
in  the  battle;  for  which  thee  would  certainly  have  been 
burned  alive  at  their  village:  but  what  was  his  design  in 
captivating  thee  poor  kinswoman  that  thee  calls  Edith, 
truly  I  cannot  divine,  not  knowing  much  of  thee  history." 

"You  shall  hear  it,"  said  Koland,  with  hoarse  accents — 
"at  least  so  much  of  it  as  may  enable  you  to  confirm  or  dis- 
prove your  suspicions.  There  is  indeed  one  man  whom  I 
have  always  esteemed  my  enemy,  the  enemy  also  of  Edith — 
a  knave  capable  of  any  extremity,  yet  never  could  I  have 
ctreamed  of  a  villainy  so  daring,  so  transcendant  as  this !" 


NICK    OF   THE   WOODS.  £35 

So  saying,  Eoland,  smothering  his  agitation  as  he  could, 
proceeded  to  acquaint  his  rude  friend,  now  necessarily  his 
confident,  with  so  much  of  his  history  as  related  to  Brax- 
ley,  his  late  uncle's  confidental  agent  and  executor; — a 
man  whom  Eoland's  revelations  to  the  gallant  and  inquisi- 
tive Colonel  Bruce,  and  still  more,  perhaps,  his  conversa- 
tion with  Edith  in  the  wood,  may  have  introduced  suffi- 
ciently to  the  reader's  acquaintance.  But  of  Braxley, 
burning  with  a  hatred  he  no  longer  chose  to  subdue,  the 
feeling  greatly  exasperated,  also,  by  the  suspicion  Nathan's 
hints  had  infused  into  his  mind,  he  now  spoke  without  re- 
straint; and  assuredly,  if  one  might  have  judged  by  the 
bitterness  of  his  invectives,  the  darkness  of  the  colors  with 
which  he  traced  the  detested  portrait,  a  baser  wretch  did 
not  exist  on  the  whole  earth. 

Yet  to  a  dispassionate  and  judicious  hearer  it  might 
have  seemed  that  there  was  little  in  the  evidence  to  bear 
out  an  accusation  so  sweeping  and  heavy.  Little,  indeed, 
had  the  soldier  to  charge  against  him  save  his  instrumental- 
ity in  defeating  hopes  and  expectations,  which  had  been 
too  long  indulged  to  be  surrendered  without  anger  and 
pain.  That  this  instrumentality,  considering  all  the  cir- 
cumstances, was  to  be  attributed  to  base  and  fraudulent 
motives,  it  was  natural  to  suspect;  but  the  proofs  were  far 
from  being  satisfactory,  as  they  rested  chiefly  on  surmises 
and  assumptions. 

It  will  be  recollected,  that  on  the  death  of  Major  For- 
rester, Braxley  had  brought  to  light  a  testament  of  un- 
doubted authenticity,  but  of  ancient  date,  in  which  the 
whole  estate  of  the  deceased  was  bequeathed  to  his  own  in- 
fant child, — an  unfortunate  daughter,  who,  however,  it 
had  never  been  doubted,  had  perished  many  years  before 
among  the  flames  of  the  cabin  of  her  foster-mother,  but 
who  Braxley  had  made  oath  was,  to  the  best  of  his  knowl- 
edge, still  alive.  His  oath  was  founded,  he  averred,  upon 
the  declaration  of  a  man,  the  husband  of  the  foster-mother, 
a  certain  Atkinson,  whom  tory  principles  and  practices, 
and  perhaps  crimes  and  outrages — for  such  was  charged 


236  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

against  him — had  long  since  driven  to  seek  refuge  on  the 
frontier,  but  who  had  privily  returned  to  the  major's  house, 
a  few  weeks  before  the  latter's  death,  and  made  confession 
that  the  girl  was  still  living;  but,  being  recognized  by  an 
old  acquaintance,  and  dreading  the  vengeance  of  his  coun- 
trymen, he  had  immediately  fled  again  to  the  frontier, 
without  acquainting  any  one  with  the  place  of  the  girl's 
concealment.  The  story  of  Atkinson's  return  was  con- 
firmed by  the  man  who  had  seen  and  recognized  him,  but 
who  knew  nothing  of  the  cause  of  his  visit;  and  Braxley 
declared  he  had  already  taken  steps  to  ferret  him  out,  and 
had  good  hopes  through  his  means  of  recovering  the  lost 
heiress. 

This  story  Eoland  affected  to  believe  a  vile  fabrication, 
the  result  of  a  deep-laid,  and,  unfortunately,  too  success- 
ful design  on  Braxley's  part,  to  get  possession,  in  the  name 
of  an  imaginary  heiress,  of  the  rich  estates  of  his  patron. 
The  authenticity  of  the  will,  which  had  been  framed  at  a 
period  when  the  dissensions  between  Major  Forrester  and 
his  brothers  were  at  the  highest,  Eoland  did  not  doubt;  it 
was  the  non-existence  of  the  individual  in  whose  favor  it 
had  been  executed,  a  circumstance  which  he  devoutly  be- 
lieved, that  gave  a  fraudulent  character  to  its  production. 
He  even  accused  Braxley  of  having  destroyed  a  second  will 
(by  which  the  former  was  of  course  annulled,  even  sup- 
posing the  heiress  were  still  living),  a  testament  framed  a 
few  months  before  his  uncle's  death;  in  which  the  latter 
.had  bequeathed  all  his  possessions  to  Edith,  the  child  of 
his  adoption. 

That  such  a  second  will  had  been  framed,  appeared  from 
the  testator's  own  admissions ;  at  least,  he  had  so  informed 
Edith,  repeating  the  fact  on  several  different  occasions. 
The  fact,  indeed,  even  Braxley  did  not  deny;  but  he 
averred,  that  the  second  instrument  had  been  destroyed  by 
the  deceased  himself,  as  soon  as  the  confession  of  Atkin- 
son had  acquainted  him  with  the  existence  of  his  own  un- 
fortunate daughter.  This  explanation  Eoland  rejected  en- 
tirely, insisting  that  during  the  whole  period  of  Atkinson's 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

visit,  and  for  some  weeks  before,  his  uncle  had  been,  in  a 
condition  of  mental  imbecility  and  unconsciousness,  as  in- 
capable of  receiving  and  understanding  the  supposed  con- 
fession as  he  was  of  acting  on  it.  The  story  was  only  an 
additional  device  of  Braxley  to  remove  from  himself  the 
suspicion  of  having  destroyed  the  second  will. 

But  whatever  might  have  been  thought  of  these  imputa- 
tions, it  was  evident  that  the  young  soldier  had  another 
cause  for  his  enmity, — one,  indeed,  that  seemed  more 
operative  on  his  mind  and  feelings,  than  even  the  loss  of 
fortune.  The  robber  and  plunderer,  for  these  were  the 
softest  epithets*  he  had  for  his  rival,  had  added  to  his 
crimes  the  enormity  of  aspiring  to  the  affections  of  his 
kinswoman,  whom  the  absence  of  Roland,  and  the  helpless 
imbecility  of  her  uncle,  left  exposed  to  his  presumption  and 
his  arts.  Had  the  maiden  smiled  upon  his  suit,  this  in- 
deed might  have  seemed  a  legitimate  cause  of  hatred  on 
the  part  of  Roland ;  but  Edith  had  repelled  the  lover  with 
firmness,  perhaps  even  with  contempt.  The  presumption 
of  such  a  rival  Roland  might  perhaps  have  pardoned;  but 
he  saw  in  the  occurrences  that  followed,  a  bitter  .and  malig- 
nant revenge  of  the  maiden's  scorn,  which  none  but  the 
basest  of  villains  could  have  attempted. 

It  was  this  consideration  which  gave  the  sharpest  edge 
to  the  young  man's  hatred;  and  it  was  his  belief  that  a 
wretch,  capable  of  such  a  revenge,  was  willing  to  add  to  it 
any  other  measure  of  villainy,  however  daring  and  fiend- 
ish, that  had  turned  his  thoughts  upon  Braxley,  when  Na- 
than's words  first  woke  the  suspicion  of  a  foeman's  design 
and  agency  in  the  attack  on  his  party.  How  Braxley,  a 
white  man  and  a  Virginian,  and,  therefore,  the  foe  of  every 
western  tribe,  could  have  so  suddenly  and  easily  thrown 
himself  into  the  arms  of  the  savages,  and  brought  them  to 
his  own  plans,  it  might  have  been  difficult  to  say.  But 
anger  is  credulous,  and  fury  stops  not  at  impossibilities. 

"It  is  Braxley  himself!"  he  cried,  at  the  close  of  his 
narration;  "how  can  it  be  doubted?  He  announced  pub- 
licly his  intention  to  proceed  to  thex  frontier,  to  the  Ken- 


238  NICK   OF    THE    WOODS. 

hawa  settlements,  in  search  of  the  fabulous  heiress,  and 
was  gone  before  our  party  had  all  assembled  in  Fincastle. 
Thus,  then,  he  veiled  his  designs,  thus  concealed  a  medi- 
tated villainy.  But  his  objects — it  was  not  my  miserable 
life  he  sought — what  would  that  avail  him? — they  aimed 
at  my  cousin, — and  she  is  now  in  his  power !" 

"Truly,  then,"  said  Nathan,  who  listened  to  the  story 
with  great  interest,  and  now  commented  on  Koland's  agi- 
tation with  equal  composure,  "thee  doth  make  a  great  fuss 
for  nothing;  for  truly,  the  maid  will  not  be  murdered — - 
truly,  thee  has  greatly  relieved  my  mind.  Thee  should 
not  think  the  man,  being  a  white  man,  will  kill  her." 

"Kill  her!"  cried  Eoland,  "would  that  twenty  bullets 
had  pierced  her  heart,  rather  than  she  should  have  fallen 
alive  into  the  hands  of  Braxley !  Miserable  wretch  that  I 
am ;  what  can  I  do  to  save  her  ?  We  will  rescue  her,  Na- 
than ;  we  will  seek  assistance ;  we  will  pursue  the  ravisher ; 
— it  is  not  yet  too  late.  Speak  to  me — I  shall  go  dis- 
tracted ;  what  must  we  do  ? — what  can  we  do  ?" 

"Truly,"  said  Nathan,  "I  fear  me,  we  can  do  nothing. — 
Don't  thee  look  so  frantic,  friend;  I  don't  think  thee  has 
good  sense !  Thee  talks  of  assistance — what  is  thee  think- 
ing about?  Where  would  thee  seek  assistance?  Has  thee 
forgot  the  Injun  army  is  on  the  north  side,  and  all  the 
fighting  men  of  the  stations  gone  to  meet  them?  There 
is  nobody  to  help  thee." 

"But  the  emigrants,  my  friend?  they  are  vet  nigh  at 
hand." 

"Truly,"  said  Nathan,  "thee  is  mistaken.  The  news  of 
the  Injuns,  that  brought  friend  Thomas  the  younger  into 
the  woods,  did  greatly  dismay  them,  as  the  young  men  re- 
ported; and,  truly,  they  did  resolve  to  delay  their  journey 
no  longer,  but  start  again  before  the  break  of  day,  that  they 
might  the  sooner  reach  the  Falls,  and  be  in  safety  with 
their  wives  and  little  ones.  There  is  no  help  for  thee. 
Thee  and  me  is  alone  in  the  wilderness,  and  there  is  no 
friend  with  us.  Leave  wringing  thee  hands^  for  it  can  do 
thoe  no  good." 


NICK    OF   THE    WOODS. 

"I  am  indeed  friendless,  and  there  is  no  hope,"  said  Ro- 
land, with  the  accents  of  despair ;  "while  we  seek  assistance, 
and  seek  it  vainly,  Edith  is  lost — lost  for  ever  I  Would 
that  we  had  perished  together !  Hapless  Edith !  wretched 
Edith !  Was  ever  wretch  so  miserable  as  I  ?" 

With  such  expressions  the  young  man  gave  loose  rein  to 
his  feelings,  and  Nathan  surveyed,  first  with  surprise,  and 
then  with  a  kind  of  gloomy  indignation,  hut  never,  as  it 
seemed,  with  any  thing  like  sympathy,  the  extravagance 
of  his  grief. 

"Thee  is  but  a  madman !"  he  exclaimed  at  last,  and  with 
a  tone  of  severity  that  arrested  Roland's  attention;  "does 
thee  curse  thee  fate,  and  the  Providence  that  is  above  thee, 
because  the  maid  of  thee  heart  is  carried  into  captivity  un- 
harmed? Is  thee  wretched  because  thee  eyes  did  not  see 
the  Injun  axe  struck  into  her  brain  ?  Friend,  thee  does  not 
know  what  such  a  sight  is;  but  I  do — yes,  I  have  looked 
upon  such  a  thing,  and  I  will  tell  thee  what  it  is;  for  it 
is  good  thee  should  know. 

"Look,  friend,"  he  continued,  grasping  Roland  by  the 
arm,  as  if  to  command  his  attention,  and  surveying  him 
with  a  look  both  wild  and  mournful;  "thee  sees  a  man 
before  thee  who  was  once  as  young  and  happy  as  thee — 
yea,  friend,  happier,  for  I  had  many  around  me  to  love 
me — the  children  of  my  body,  the  wife  of  my  bosom,  the 
mother  that  gave  me  birth.  Thee  did  talk  of  such  things 
to  me  in  the  wood — thee  did  mention  them  one  and  all — 
wife,  parent  and  child!  Such  things  had  I,  and  men 
spoke  well  of  me.  But  thee  sees  what  I  am!  There  is 
none  of  them  remaining — none  only  but  me;  and  thee 
sees  me  what  I  am ! 

"Ten  years  ago  I  was  another  man — a  poor  man,  friend, 
but  one  that  was  happy.  I  dwelt  upon  the  frontiers  of 
Bedford — -thee  may  not  know  the  place;  it  is  among  the 
mountains  of  Pennsylvania,  and  far  away.  There  was 
the  house  that  I  did  build  me ;  and  in  it  there  was  all  that 
I  held  dear,  'my  gray  old  mother' — (that's  the  way  thee 
did  call  her,  when  thee  spoke  of  her  in  the  wood!) — 'the 


240  NICK   OF   THE   "WOODS. 

wife  of  my  bosom/  and  cthe  child  of  my  heart/ — the 
children,  friend,  for  there  were  five  of  them,  sons  and 
daughters  together, — little  innocent  babes  that  had  done 
no  wrong ;  and,  truly,  I  loved  them  well. 

"Well,  friend,  the  Injuns  came  around  us;  for  being 
bold,  because  of  my  faith  that  made  me  a  man  of  peace, 
and  the  friend  of  all  men,  I  sat  me  down  far  on  the  border. 
But  the  Shawnees  came  upon  me,  and  came  as  men  of  war, 
and  their  hands  were  red  with  the  blood  of  my  neighbors, 
and  they  raised  them  against  my  little  infants.  Thee  asked 
me  in  the  wood  what  I  would  do  in  such  case,  having  arms 
in  my  hand  ?  Friend,  I  had  arms  in  my  hand  at  that  mo- 
ment— a  gun  that  had  shot  me  the  beasts  of  the  mountains 
for  food,  and  a  knife  that  had  pierced  the  throats  of  bears 
in  their  dens.  I  gave  them  to  the  Shawn.ee  chief,  that 
he  might  know  I  was  a  friend. 

"Friend !  if  thee  asks  me  now  for  my  children  I  can  tell 
thee.  With  my  own  knife  he  struck  down  my  eldest  boy ! 
with  my  own  gun  he  slew  the  mother  of  my  children.  If 
thee  should  live  till  thee  is  gray,  thee  will  never  see  the 
sight  I  saw  that  day !  When  thee  has  children  that  Injuns 
murder  as  thee  stands  by — a  wife  that  clasps  thee  legs  in 
the  writhings  of  death,  her  blood  spouting  up  to  thee 
bosom,  where  she  has  slept — an  old  mother  calling  thee  to 
help  her  in  her  death  struggle; — then,  friend,  then  thee 
may  see — then  thee  may  know — then  thee  may  feel — then 
thee  may  call  theeself  wretched,  for  thee  will  be  so !  Here 
was  my  little  boy — does  thee  see? — here  his  two  sisters — 
thee  understands? — there.  Thee  may  think  I  would  have 
snatched  a  weapon  to  help  them  then!  Well,  thee  is 
right ;  but  it  was  too  late !  All  murdered,  friend ! — all — 
all — all  cruelly  murdered !" 

It  is  impossible  to  convey  an  idea  of  the  extraordinary 
vehemence,  the  wild  accents,  the  frantic  looks,  with  which 
Nathan  ended  the  horrid  story  into  which  he  had  been  be- 
trayed by  his  repining  companion.  His  struggles  to  sub- 
due the  passions  that  the  dreadful  recollections  of  a  whole 
family's  butchery  awoke  in  his  bosom,  only  served  to  add 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

double  distortion  to  his  changes  of  countenance,  which,  a 
better  index  of  the  convulsion  within  than  were  his  broken, 
incoherent,  half-inarticulate  words,  assumed  at  last  an 
appearance  so  wild,  so  hideous,  so  truly  terrific,  that  Ro- 
land was  seized  with  horror,  deeming  himself  confronted 
with  a  raging  maniac.  He  raised  his  hand  to  remove  that  of 
Xathan,  which  still  clutched  his  arm,  and  clutched  it  with 
painful  force;  but  while  in  the  act,  the  fingers  relaxed 
of  themselves,  and  Nathan  dropped  suddenly  to  the  earth, 
as  if  struck  down  by  a  thunder-bolt,  his  mouth  foaming, 
his  eyes  distorted,  his  hands  clenched,  his  body  convulsed — 
in  short,  exhibiting  every  proof  of  an  epileptic  fit,  brought 
on  by  overpowering  agitation  of  mind. 

As  he  fell,  little  Peter  sprang  to  his  side,  and  throwing 
his  paws  on  his  unconscious  master's  breast,  stood  over 
him,  as  if  to  protect  him,  growling  at  Eoland,  who,  though 
greatly  shocked  at  the  catastrophe,  did  not  hesitate  to  offer 
such  relief  as  was  in  his  power.  Disregarding  the  menace 
of  the  dog,  which  seemed  at  last  to  understand  the  purpose 
was  friendly,  he  raised  Nathan's  head  upon  his  knee, 
loosened  the  neckcloth  that  bound  his  throat,  and  sprinkled 
his  face  with  water  from  the  spring. 

While  thus  engaged,  the  cap  of  the  sufferer  fell  from 
his  head,  and  Eoland  saw  that  Nathan  carried  with  him  a 
better  cause  for  the  affliction  than  could  be  referred  to  any 
mere  temporary  emotion,  however  overwhelming  to  the 
mind.  A  horrible  scar  disfigured  the  top  of  his  head, 
which  seemed  to  have  been,  many  years  before,  crushed  by 
the  blows  of  a  heavy  weapon;  and  it  was  equally  manifest 
that  the  savage  scalping  knife  had  done  its  work  on  the 
mangled  head. 

The  soldier  had  heard  that  injuries  to  the  head  often 
resulted  in  insanity  of  some  species  or  other;  he  could 
now  speculate  on  better  grounds,  and  with  better  reason, 
upon  some  of  those  singular  points  of  character  which 
seemed  to  distinguish  the  houseless  Nathan  from  the  rest 
of  his  fellowmen. 


NICK    OF   THE    WOODS. 


CHAPTEE  XXIV. 

Be   comforted: 

Let's  make  us  med'cines  of  our  great  revenge 
To   cure  this  deadly  grief. 

— Macbeth. 

t 

) 

THE  convulsion  was  but  momentary,  and  departed  with 
almost  the  same  suddenness  that  marked  its  accession. 
Nathan  started  half  up,  looked  wildly  around  him,  survey- 
ing the  bodies  of  the  two  Piankeshaws,  and  the  visage  of 
the  sympathizing  soldier.  Then  snatching  up  and  re- 
placing his  hat  with  one  hand,  and  grasping  Roland's  with 
the  other,  he  exclaimed,  as  if  wholly  unconscious  of  what 
had  happened  him : — 

"Thee  has  heard  it,  and  thee  knows  it, — thee  knows 
what  the  Shawnees  have  done  to  me — they  have  killed 
them  all,  all  that  was  of  my  blood !  Had  they  done  so  by 
thee,  friend,"  he  demanded,  with  wild  eagerness,  "had  they 
done  so  by  thee,  what  would  thee  have  done  to  them  ?" 

"Declared  eternal  war  upon  them  and  their  accursed 
race  I"  cried  Eoland,  greatly  excited  by  the  story ;  "I  would 
have  sworn  undying  vengeance,  and  I  would  have  sought 
it — ay,  sought  it  without  ceasing.  Day  and  night,  sum- 
mer and  winter,  on  the  frontier  and  in  their  own  lands 
and  villages  I  would  have  pursued  the  wretches,  and  pur- 
sued them  to  the  death." 

"Thee  is  right!"  cried  Nathan,  wringing  the  hand  he 
still  held,  and  speaking  with  a  grin  of  hideous  approval ; — 
"by  night  and  by  day,  in  summer  and  winter,  in  the  wood 
and  in  the  wigwam,  thee  would  seek  for  their  blood,  and 
thee  would  shed  it; — thee  would  think  of  thee  wife  and 
thee  little  babes,  and  thee  heart  would  be  as  stone  and  fire 
within  thee — thee  would  kill,  friend,  thee  would  kill,  thee 
would  kill !"  And  the  monosyllable  was  breathed  over  and 
over  again  with  a  ferocity  of  emphasis  that  showed  how 
deep  and  vindictive  was  the  passion  in  the  speaker's  mind. 

Then,  with  a  transition  of  feeling  as  unexpected  as  it  was 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  243 

abrupt,  he  added,  still  wringing  Roland's  hand,  as  if  he 
had  found  in  him  a  sympathizing  friend,  whose  further 
kindness  he  was  resolved  to  deserve  and  to  repay — "Thee 
is  right;  I  have  thought  about  what  thee  has  said — thee 
shall  have  assistance.  Thee  is  a  brave  man,  and  thee  has 
not  mocked  at  me  because  of  my  faith.  Thee  enemies. 
shall  be  pursued,  and  the  maid  thee  loves  shall  be  re-^ 
stored  to  thee  arms." 

"Alas !"  said  Roland,  almost  fearing  from  the  impetuos- 
ity, as  well  as  confidence  with  which  Nathan  now  spoke, 
that  his  wits  were  in  a  state  of  distraction,  "where  shall 
we  look  for  help,  since  there  are  none  but  ourselves  in  this 
desert,  of  whom  to  ask  it?" 

"From  our  two  selves  it  must  come,  and  from  none 
others/'  said  Nathan,  briskly.  "We  will  follow  the  mur- 
dering thieves  that  have  robbed  thee  of  thee  treasure,  and 
we  will  recover  the  maid  Edith  from  their  hands." 

"What!  unaided?  alone?" 

"Alone,  friend,  with  little  Peter  to  be  our  guide,  and 
Providence  our  hope  and  our  stay?  Thee  is  a  man  of 
courage,  and  thee  heart  will  not  fail  thee,  even  if  thee 
should  find  theeself  led  into  the  heart  of  the  Injun  nation. 
I  have  thought  of  this  thing,  friend,  and  I  perceive  there 
is  good  hope  we  shall  prevail,  and  prevail  better  than  if 
we  had  an  hundred  men  to  follow  at  our  backs ;  unless  we 
had  them  ready  with  us,  to  march  this  very  day.  Does 
thee  hear  me,  friend?  The  Shawnee  fighting  men  are 
now  in  Kentucky,  assembled  in  a  great  army,  scalping 
and  murdering  as  they  come;  their  villages  are  left  to  be 
guarded  by  women  and  children,  and  old  men  no  longer 
fit  for  war.  Thee  understands  me  ?  If  thee  waits  till  thee 
collects  friends,  thee  will  have  to  cut  thee  way  with  them 
through  fighting  men  returned  to  their  villages  before  thee ; 
if  thee  proceeds  as  thee  is,  thee  has  nothing  to  fear  that 
thee  cannot  guard  against  with  thee  own  cunning — noth- 
ing to  oppose  thee  that  thee  cannot  conquer  with  thee  own 
strength  and  courage." 

"And  how,,"  cried  Roland,  too  ardent  of  temper,  too 


244  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

ready  to  snatch  at  any  hope,  to  refuse  his  approbation  to 
the  enterprise,  though  its  difficulties  immediately  crowded 
before  his  eyes,  "how  shall  we  follow  a  trail  so  long  and 
cold?  where  shall  we  find  arms?  where " 

"Friend,"  said  Nathan,  interrupting  him,  "thee  speaks 
without  thought.  For  arms  and  ammunition,  thee  has 
thee  choice  among  the  spoils  of  these  dead  villains,  thee  cap- 
tivators.  For  the  trail,  thee  need  not  think  nothing  of 
that ;  lost  or  found,  thee  may  be  certain  it  leads  to  the  old 
Vulture's  town  on  the  Miami;  there  thee  will  find  thee 
cousin,  and  thither  I  can  lead  thee." 

"Let  us  go,  then,  in  heaven's  name,"  cried  Eoland,  "and 
without  delay;  every  moment  is  precious." 

"Thee  speaks  the  truth;  and  if  thee  feels  thee  limbs 
strong  enough— " 

"They  are  nerved  by  hope;  and  while  that  remains,  I 
will  neither  faint  nor  falter.  Edith  rescued,  and  one  blow 
• — one  good  blow  struck  at  the  villain  that  wrongs  her ! — 
then  let  them  fail  me,  if  heaven  wills  it,  and  fail  me  for 
ever !" 

Few  more  words  were  required  to  confirm  Eoland's  ap- 
proval of  the  project  so  boldly,  and,  indeed,  as  it  seemed, 
so  judiciously  advised  by  his  companion.  To  seek  assist- 
ance was,  as  Nathan  had  justly  said,  to  cast  away  the  op- 
portunity, which  the  absence  of  the  warriors  from  their 
towns  opened  to  his  hopes, — an  opportunity  in  which  craft 
and  stratagem  might  well  obtain  the  success  not  to  be  won 
at  a  later  period,  and  after  the  return  of  the  marauders, 
even  by  a  band  of  armed  men. 

Turning  to  the  corses  that  still  lay  on  the  couch  of  leaves 
where  they  expired,  Nathan  began,  with  little  ceremony, 
and  none  of  the  compunction  that  might  have  been  ex- 
pected, to  rob  them  of  their  knives,  guns,  and  ammunition, 
with  which  Eoland,  selecting  weapons  to  his  liking,  was 
soon  well  armed.  The  pouches  of  the  warriors,  containing 
strips  of  dried  venison,  and  stores  of  parched  corn,  Nathan 
appropriated  in  the  same  way,  taking  care,  from  the  super- 
abundance, to  reward  the  services  of  little  Peter,  who  re- 


NICK    OF    THE    "WOODS.  245 

ceived  with  modest  gratitude,  but  despatched  with  ener- 
getic haste,  the  meal  which  his  appearance,  as  well  as  his 
appetite,  showed  was  not  a  blessing  of  every  day  occurrence. 

These  preparations  concluded,  Nathan  signified  his 
readiness  to  conduct  the  young  soldier  on  his  way.  But  as 
he  stepped  to  the  edge  of  the  little  glade,  and  turned  to 
take  a  last  look  of  the  dead  Indians,  the  victims  of  his  own 
warlike  hand,  a  change  came  over  his  appearance.  The 
bold  and  manly  look  which  he  had  for  a  moment  assumed, 
was  exchanged  for  an  air  of  embarrassment,  almost  timid- 
ity, such  as  marked  his  visage  of  old,  at  the  station.  He 
hesitated,  paused,  looked  at  the  bodies  again,  and  then 
at  Roland ;  and  finally  muttered  aloud,  though  with  doubt- 
ing accents: — 

"Thee  is  a  man  of  war,  friend, — a  man  of  war  and  a 
soldier!  and  thee  fights  Injuns  even  as  the  young  men  of 
Kentucky  fights  them ;  and  thee  may  think  it  but  right 
and  proper,  as  they  do,  in  such  case  made  and  provided, 
to  take  the  scalps  off  the  heads  of  these  same  dead  vaga- 
bonds! Truly,  friend,  if  thee  is  of  that  mind,  truly,  I 
won't  oppose  thee !" 

"Their  scalps?  I  scalp  them!"  cried  Roland,  with  a 
soldier's  disgust;  "I  am  no  butcher;  I  leave  them  to  the 
bears  and  wolves,  which  the  villains  in  their  natures  so 
strongly  resembled.  I  will  kill  Indians  wherever  I  can; 
but  no  scalping,  Nathan,  no  scalping  from  me !" 

"Truly,  it  is  just  as  thee  thinks  proper,"  Nathan  mum- 
bled out;  and  without  further  remark,  he  strode  into  the 
wood,  following  the  path  which  the  Piankeshaws  had 
travelled  the  preceding  evening,  until,  with  Eoland,  he 
reached  the  spot  where  had  happened  the  catastrophe  of 
the  keg, — a  place  but  a  few  hundred  paces  distant  from 
the  glade.  Along  the  whole  way  he  had  betrayed  symp- 
toms of  dissatisfaction  and  uneasiness,  for  which  Roland 
could  not  account ;  and  now,  having  arrived  at  this  spot,  he 
came  to  a  pause,  and  revealed  the  source  of  his  trouble. 

"Do  thee  sit  down  here  and  rest  thee  weary  limbs, 
friend,"  he  said.  "Truly,  I  have  left  two  Injun  guns  lying 


246  NICK   OP   THE   WOODS. 

open  to  the  day ;  and  truly,  it  doth  afflict  me  to  think  so ; 
for  if  other  Injuns  should  chance  upon  this  place,  they 
must  needs  find  them,  and  perhaps  use  them  in  killing  poor 
white  persons.  Truly,  I  will  hid  them  in  a  hollow  tree, 
and  return  to  thee  in  a  minute." 

With  these  words  he  immediately  retraced  his  path, 
leaving  Roland  to  wonder  and  speculate  at  leisure  over  the 
singular  intermixture  of  humane  and  ferocious  elements, 
of  which  his  character  seemed  compounded.  But  the 
speculation  was  not  long  indulged ;  in  a  few  moments  Na- 
than's footsteps  were  heard  ringing  along  the  arched  path, 
and  he  again  made  his  appearance,  but  looking  a  new  man. 
His  gait  was  fierce  and  confident,  his  countenance  bold 
and  expressive  of  satisfaction.  "Things  should  never  be 
done  by  halves/'  he  muttered,  but  more  as  if  speaking  to 
his  own  thoughts  than  to  his  companion. 

With  this  brief  apology,  he  again  led  the  way  through 
the  forest;  but  not  until  Roland  had  observed,  or  thought 
he  observed,  a  drop  of  blood  fall  from  his  tattered  knife 
sheath  to  the  earth.  But  the  suspicion  that  this  little 
incident,  coupled  with  the  change  in  Nathan's  deportment, 
awoke  in  Roland's  mind,  he  had  no  leisure  to  pursue ;  Na- 
than now  striding  forward  at  a  pace  which  soon  brought 
his  companion  to  a  painful  sense  of  his  own  enfeebled  and 
suffering  condition. 

"Thee  must  neither  faint  nor  flag,"  said  Nathan;  "thee 
enemies  have  the  start  of  thee  by  a  whole  day;  and  they 
have  the  horses  also.  Truly,  it  is  my  fear,  that  with  these 
horses  and  thee  kinswoman,  Abel  Doe  and  the  man  Brax- 
ley,  thee  foeman,  may  push  on  for  the  Injun  town  with 
what  speed  they  can,  leaving  their  Injun  thieves  the  foot- 
men, to  follow  on  as  they  may,  or  perhaps  to  strike  through 
the  woods  for  the  north  side,  to  join  the  ramping  villains 
that  are  there  burning  and  murdering.  Thee  must  keep 
up  thee  strength  till  nightfall,  when  thee  shall  have  good 
meat  to  eat,  and  a  long  sleep  to  refresh  thee;  and,  truly, 
on  the  morrow  thee  with  be  very  well^  though  a  little 
feverish." 


NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

With  such  encouragement,  repeated  time  by  time  as 
seemed  to  him  needful,  Nathan  continued  to  lead  through 
wood  and  brake,  with  a  vigor  and  freshness  of  step  that 
moved  the  wonder  and  envy  of  Roland,  who  knew  that, 
like  himself,  Nathan  had  been  without  sleep  for  twe 
nights  in  succession;  besides,  having  employed  the  inter- 
vening days  in  the  most  laborious  exertions.  Such  an 
example  of  untiring  energy  and  zeal,  and  the  reflection 
'that  they  were  displayed  in  his  cause — in  the  cause  of  his 
hapless  Edith — supported  Roland's  own  flagging  steps; 
and  he  followed  without  murmuring,  until  the  close  of 
the  day  found  him  again  on  the  banks  of  the  river  that 
had  witnessed  so  many  of  his  sufferings.  He  had  been 
long  aware  that  Nathan  had  deserted  the  path  of  the 
Piankeshaws;  but  not  doubting  his  superior  knowledge  of 
the  woods  had  led  him  into  a  shorter  path,  he  was  both 
surprised  and  concerned,  when,  striking  the  river  at  last, 
he  found  himself  in  a  place  entirely  unknown,  and  appar- 
ently many  miles  below  the  scene  of  conflict  of  the  previous 
day. 

"He  that  would  follow  upon  the  heels  of  Wenonga,"  said 
Nathan,  "must  walk  wide  of  his  footsteps,  for  fear  lest 
he  should  suddenly  tread  on  the  old  reptile's  tail.  Thee 
don't  know  the  craft  of  an  old  Injun  that  expects  to  be 
followed, — as,  truly,  it  is  like  the  Black  Vulture  may  ex- 
pect it  now.  Do  thee  be  content,  friend;  there  is  more 
paths  to  Wenonga's  town  than  them  that  Wenonga  fol- 
lows; and,  truly,  we  may  gain  something  by  taking  the 
shortest." 

Thus  satisfying  Eoland  he  had  good  reasons  for  choosing 
his  own  path,  Nathan  led  the  way  to  the  verge  of  the 
river;  where,  leaving  the  broad  buffalo-trace  by  which  he 
descended  the  banks,  and  diving  through  canes  pud  rocks, 
until  he  had  left  the  ford  to  which  the  path  led,  a  quarter- 
mile  or  more  behind,  he  stopped  at  last  under  a  grim  cliff, 
overgrown  with  trees  and  brambles,  where  a  cove  or  hol- 
low in  the  rock,  of  a  peculiarly  wild,  solitary,  and  defensi- 
ble character,  invited  him  to  take  up  quarters  for  the  night. 


248  NICK    OP    THE    WOODS. 

Nor  did  this  seem  the  first  time  Wandering  Nathan  had 
sought  shelter  in  the  place,  which  possessed  additional 
advantage  in  a  little  spring  that  trickled  from  the  rock, 
and  collected  its  limpid  stores  in  a  rocky  basin  hard  by; 
there  were  divers  half-burned  brands  lying  on  its  sandy 
floor,  and  a  bed  of  fern  and  cane-leaves,  not  yet  dispersed 
by  the  winds,  that  had  evidently  been  once  pressed  by  a 
human  form. 

"Thee  will  never  see  a  true  man  of  the  woods,"  said 
Nathan,  with  much  apparent  self-approval,  "build  his 
camp-fire  on  a  road-side,  like  that  unlucky  foolish  man, 
Ealph  Stackpole  by  name,  that  ferried  thee  down  the  river. 
Truly,  it  was  a  marvel  he  did  not  drown  thee  all,  as  well 
as  the  poor  man  Dodge!  Here,  friend,  we  can  sleep  in 
peace ;  and,  truly,  sleep  will  be  good  for  thee,  and  me,  and 
little  Peter." 

With  these  words,  Nathan  set  about  collecting  dried  logs 
and  branches  which  former  floods  had  strown  in  great 
abundance  along  the  rocks;  and  dragging  them  into  the 
cove,  he  soon  set  them  in  a  cheerful  blaze.  He  then  drew 
forth  his  stores  of  provender,  the  corn  and  dried  meat  he 
had  taken  from  the  Piankeshaw's  pouches, — the  latter  of 
which,  after  a  preliminary  sop  or  two  in  the  spring,  for 
the  double  purpose  of  washing  off  the  grains  of  gunpowder, 
tobacco,  and  what  not,  the  usual  scrapings  of  an  Indian's 
pocket,  and  of  restoring  its  long-vanished  juices, — he 
spitted  on  twigs  of  cane,  and  roasted  with  exceeding  pa- 
tience and  solicitude  at  the  fire.  To  these  dainty  viands 
he  added  certain  cakes  and  lumps  of  some  nondescript  sub- 
stance, as  Eoland  supposed  it,  until  assured  by  Nathan  it 
was  good  maple-sugar,  and  of  his  own  making. 

"Truly,"  said  he,  "it  might  have  been  better,  had  it 
been  better  made.  But,  truly,  friend,  I  am,  as  thee  may 
say,  a  man  that  lives  in  the  woods,  having  neither  cabin 
nor  wigwam,  the  Injuns  having  burned  down  the  same, 
so  that  it  is  tedious  to  rebuild  them ;  and  having  neither 
pots  nor  pans,  the  same  having  been  all  stolen,  I  did  make 
my  sugar  in  the  wooden  troughs,  boiling  it  down  with  hot 


KICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  249 

stones ;  and,  truly,  friend,  it  doth  serve  the  purpose  of  salt, 
and  is  good  against  hunger  in  long  journeys." 

There  was  little  in  the  dishes,  set  off  by  Nathan's  cook- 
ery, or  his  own  feelings,  to  dispose  the  sick  and  weary  sol- 
dier to  eat;  and  having  swallowed  but  a  few  mouthfuls, 
he  threw  himself  upon  the  bed  of  leaves,  hoping  to  find 
that  refreshment  in  slumber  which  neither  food  nor  the 
conversation  of  his  companion  could  supply.  His  body 
being  as  much  worn  and  exhausted  as  his  mind,  the  latter 
was  not  doomed  to  be  long  tossed  by  grief  and  fear;  and 
before  the  last  hues  of  sunset  had  faded  in  the  west, 
slumber  had  swept  from  his  bosom  the  consciousness  of  his 
own  sufferings,  with  even  the  memory  of  his  Edith. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Nathan  had  gathered  more  wood  to 
supply  the  fire  during  the  night,  and  added  a  new  stock 
of  cane-leaves  for  his  own  bed;  having  made  which  to  his 
liking,  disposed  his  arms  where  they  could  be  seized  at  a 
moment's  warning,  and,  above  all,  accommodated  little 
Peter  with  a  couch  at  his  own  feet,  he  also  threw  himself 
at  length,  and  was  soon  sound  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

The  day  shall  not  be  up  so  soon  as  I, 
To   try  the   fair   adventure. 

— King  John. 
But  seeing,   flashing  forward,  like  the  day 

Over   the   hills,   a   fire  enough  to  blind 
Those  who  dislike  to  look  upon  a  fray, 
He  stumbled  on. 

— Don  Juan. 

THE  morning-star,  peeping  into  the  hollow  den  of  the 
wanderers,  was  yet  bright  on  the  horizon,  when  Roland 
was  roused  from  his  slumbers  by  Nathan,  who  had  already 
risen  and  prepared  a  hasty  meal,  resembling  in  all  respects 
that  of  the  preceding  evening.  To  this  the  soldier  did 
better  justice  than  to  the  other ;  for,  although  feeling  soro 


250  NICK   OP   THE   WOODS. 

and  stiff  in  every  limb,  he  experienced  none  of  the  feverish 
consequences  Nathan  had  predicted,  from  his  wounds; 
and  his  mind,  invigorated  by  so  many  hours  of  rest,  was 
more  tranquil  and  cheerful.  The  confidence  Nathan 
seemed  to  feel  in  the  reasonableness  and  practicability  of 
their  enterprise,  however  wild  and  daring  it  might  have 
seemed  to  others,  was  his  own  best  assurance  of  its  success ; 
and  hope  thus  enkindled,  growing  with  his  growing 
strength,  it  required  no  laborious  effort  to  summon  the 
spirits  necessary  to  sustain  him  during  the  coming  trials. 

This  change  for  the  better  was  not  unnoticed  by  Nathan, 
who  exhorted  him  to  eat  freely,  as  a  necessary  prelude  to 
the  labors  of  the  day ;  and  the  rude  meal  being  quickly  and 
satisfactorily  despatched,  and  little  Peter  receiving  his  due 
share,  the  companions,  without  further  delay,  seized  their 
arms  and  re-commenced  their  journey.  Crossing  the  river 
at  the  buffalo-ford  above,  and  exchanging  the  road  to  which 
it  led  for  wilder  and  lonelier  paths  traced  by  smaller  ani- 
mals, they  made  their  way  through  the  forest,  travelling 
with  considerable  speed,  which  was  increased  as  the  warmth 
of  exercise  gradually  restored  their  native  suppleness  to 
the  soldier's  limbs. 

And  now  it  was  that,  as  the  opening  of  a  glorious  dawn, 
flinging  sunshine  and  life  over  the  whole  wilderness,  in- 
fused still  brighter  hopes  into  Roland's  spirit,  he  began  to 
divide  his  thoughts  between  his  kinswoman  and  his  guide, 
bestowing  more  upon  the  latter  than  he  had  previously 
found  time  or  inclination  to  do.  His  strange  appearance, 
his  stranger  character,  his  sudden  metamorphosis  from  a 
timid,  and  somewhat  over-conscientious  professor  of  the 
doctrines  of  peace  and  good-will,  into  a  highly  energetic 
and  unremorseful,  not  to  say,  valiant,  man  of  war,  were 
all  subjects  to  provoke  the  soldier's  curiosity;  which  was 
still  further  increased  when  he  pondered  over  the  dismal 
story  Nathan  had  so  imperfectly  told  him  on  the  past  day. 

Of  those  dreadful  calamities  which,  in  Nathan's  own 
language,  "had  made  him  what  he  was,"  a  houseless  wan- 
derer of  the  wilderness,  the  Virginian  would  have  gladly 


NICK   OF   THE    WOODS. 

known  more ;  but  his  first  allusion  to  the  subject  produced 
such  evident  disorder  in  Nathan's  mind,  as  if  the  recollec- 
tion were  too  harrowing  to  be  borne,  that  the  young  man 
immediately  repressed  his  inquiries,  and  diverted  his 
guide's  thoughts  into  another  channel. 

His  imagination  supplied  the  imperfect  links  in  the 
story ;  he  could  well  believe  that  the  same  hands  which  had 
shed  the  blood  of  every  member  of  the  poor  borderer's  fam- 
ily, might  have  struck  the  hatchet  into  the  head  of  the 
resisting  husband  and  father;  and  that  the  effects  of  that 
blow,  with  the  desolation  of  heart  and  fortune  which  the 
heavier  ones,  struck  at  the  same  time,  had  entailed,  might 
have  driven  him  to  the  woods,  an  idle,  and  perhaps  aim- 
less wanderer. 

How  far  these  causes  might  have  operated  in  leading  Na- 
than into  those  late  acts  of  blood  which  were  at  such  vari- 
ance with  his  faith  and  professions,  it  remained  also  for 
Roland  to  imagine;  and,  in  truth,  he  imagined  they  had 
operated  deeply  and  far;  though  nothing  in  Nathan's  own 
admissions  could  be  found  to  sanction  any  belief,  save  that 
they  were  the  results  partly  of  accident,  and  partly  of 
sudden  and  irresistible  impulse. 

At  all  events,  it  was  plain  that  his  warlike  feats,  fioweve: 
they  might  at  first  have  shocked  his  sense  of  propriety, 
now  sat  but  lightly  on  his  conscience-;  and,  indeed,  since 
his  confession  at  the  Piankeshaw  oC<mp,  he  ceased  even  to 
talk  of  them,  perhaps  resting  upon  that  as  an  all-sufficient 
explanation  and  apology.  It  is  certain,  from  that  moment 
he  bore  himself  more  freely  and  boldly,  entered  no  protest 
whatever  against  being  called  on  to  do  his  share  of  such 
fighting  as  might  occur — a  stipulation  made  with  such 
anxious  forethought,  when  he  first  consented  to  accompany 
the  lost  travellers — nor  betrayed  any  tenderness  of  invec- 
tive against  the  Indians,  whom,  having  first  spoke  of 
them  only  as  "evil-minded  poor  Shawnee  creatures,"  he 
now  designated,  conformably  to  established  usage  among 
his  neighbors  of  the  stations,  as  "thieves  and  dogs," 
"bloody  villains,  and  rapscallions;"  all  which  expressions, 


252  NICK   OF    THE    WOODS. 

he  bestowed  with  as  much  ease  and  emphasis  as  if  he  had 
been  accustomed  to  use  them  all  his  life. 

With  this  singular  friend  and  companion,  Roland  pur- 
sued his  way  through  the  wilderness,  committing  life,  and 
the  hopes  that  were  dearer  than  life,  to  his  sole  guidance 
and  protection;  nor  did  any  thing  happen  to  shake  his 
faith  in  either  the  zeal  or  ability  of  Nathan  to  conduct  to 
a  prosperous  issue  the  cause  he  had  so  freely  and  disin- 
terestedly espoused. 

As  they  thridded  the  lonely  forest-paths  together,  Na- 
than explained  at  length  the  circumstances  upon  which 
he  founded  his  hopes  of  success  in  their  project;  and  in 
doing  so,  convinced  the  soldier,  not  only  that  his  sagacity 
was  equal  to  the  enterprise,  but  that  his  acquaintance  with 
the  wilderness  was  by  no  means  confined  to  the  region  south 
of  the  Ohio;  the  northern  countries,  then  wholly  in  the 
possession  of  the  Indian  tribes,  appearing  to  be  just  as 
well  known  to  him,  the  Miami  country  in  particular,  in 
which  lay  the  village  of  the  Black  Vulture.  How  this 
knowledge  had  been  obtained  was  not  so  evident;  for  al- 
though he  averred  he  hunted  the  deer  or  trapped  the 
beaver  on  either  side  the  river,  as  appeared  to  him  most 
agreeable,  it  was  hardly  to  be  supposed  he  could  carry  on 
Buch  operations  in  the  heart  of  the  Indian  nation.  But  it 
was  enough  for  Roland  that  the  knowledge  so  essential  to 
his  own  present  plans  was  really  possessed  by  his  conductor, 
and  he  cared  not  to  question  how  it  had  been  arrived  at; 
it  was  an  augury  of  success,  of  which  he  felt  the  full 
influence. 

The  evening  of  that  day  found  him  upon  the  banks  of 
the  Kentucky,  the  wild  and  beautiful  river  from  which 
the  wilderness  around  derived  its  name;  and  the  next 
morning,  crossing  it  on  a  raft  of  logs  speedily  constructed 
by  Nathan,  he  trod  upon  the  soil  of  the  north  side,  famoui 
even  then  for  its  beauty  and  for  the  deeds  of  bloodshed,, 
almost  daily  enacted  among  its  scattered  settlements,  and 
destined,  unhappily,  to  be  rendered  still  more  famous  for  a 
tragedy  which  that  very  day  witnessed^  far  off  among  thtf 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

barren  ridges  of  the  Licking,  where  sixty  of  the  district's 
best  and  bravest  sons  fell  the  victims  less  of  Indian  sub- 
tlety than  of  their  own  unparalleled  rashness.  But  of  that 
bloody  field  the  travellers  were  to  hear  thereafter ;  the  vul- 
tures were  winging  their  flight  towards  the  fatal  scene; 
but  they  alone  could  snuff,  in  that  silent  desert,  the  scent 
of  the  battle  that  vexed  it. 

Sleeping  that  night  in  the  woods,  the  next  day,  being 
the  fourth  since  they  left  the  Piankeshaw  camp,  beheld 
the  travellers  upon  the  banks  of  the  Ohio;  which,  seen 
for  the  first  time  in  the  glory  of  summer,  its  crystal  waters 
wheeling  placidly  along  amid  hills  and  forests,  ever  re- 
flected in  the  bright  mirror  below,  and  with  the  air  of 
virgin  solitude  which,  through  so  many  leagues  of  its 
course,  it  still  presents,  never  fails  to  fill  the  beholder's 
mind  with  an  enchanting  sense  of  its  loveliness. 

Here  a  raft  was  again  constructed;  and  the  adventurers 
pushing  boldly  across,  were  soon  upon  the  opposite  shore. 
This  feat  accomplished,  Nathan  took  the  precaution  to 
launch  their  frail  float  adrift  in  the  current,  that  no  tell- 
tale memorial  of  a  white  man's  visit  should  remain  to  be 
read  by  returning  warriors.  The  next  moment  ascending 
the  bank  of  the  river,  he  plunged  with  his  companion  into 
a  maze  of  brake  and  forest,  neither  of  them  then  dreaming 
that  upon  the  very  spot  where  they  toiled  through  the 
tangled  labyrinths,  a  few  years  should  behold  the  magic 
spectacle  of  a  fair  city,  the  Queen  of  the  West,  uprisen 
with  the  suddenness,  and  almost  the  splendor,  of  the  Fata- 
Morgana,  though,  happily,  doomed  to  no  such  evanescent 
existence.  Then  handling  their  arms,  like  men  who  felt 
they  were  in  a  foeman's  country,  and  knew  that  every  fur- 
ther step  was  to  be  taken  in  peril,  they  resumed  their  jour- 
ney, travelling  with  such  speed  and  vigor  (for  Roland's 
strength  had  returned  apace),  that  at  the  close  of  the 
day,  they  were,  according  to  Nathan's  account,  scarce 
twenty  miles  distant  from  the  Black  Vulture's  village, 
which  they  might  easily  reach  the  following  day.  On  the 
following  day,  accordingly,  they  resumed  their  march, 


254  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

avoiding  all  paths,  and  stealing  through  the  most  unfre- 
quented depths  of  the  woods,  proceeding  with  a  caution 
which  was  every  moment  becoming  more  obviously  neces- 
sary to  the  success  of  their  enterprise. 

Up  to  this  period  their  journey  had  presented  nothing  of 
interest,  being  a  mere  succession  of  toil,  privation,  and  oc- 
casional suffering,  naturally  enough  to  be  expected  in  such 
an  undertaking;  but  it  was  now  about  to  be  varied  by  an 
adventure  of  no  little  interest  in  itself,  and,  in  its  conse- 
quences, destined  to  exercise  a  powerful  influence  on  the 
prospects  of  the  travellers. 

Laying  their  plans  so  as  to  reach  the  Indian  village  only 
about  nightfall,  and  travelling  but  slowly,  and  with  great 
circumspection,  they  had  not  at  midday  accomplished  much 
more  than  half  the  distance;  when  they  came  to  a  halt  in 
a  little  dell,  extremely  wild  and  sequestered,  where  Nathan 
proposed  to  rest  a  few  hours  and  recruit  their  strength  with 
a  warm  dinner, — a  luxury  they  had  not  enjoyed  for  the 
last  two  days,  during  which  they  had  subsisted  upon  the 
corn  and  dried  meat  from  the  Indian  wallets.  Accident 
had  a  few  moments  before  provided  them  materials  for  a 
more  palatable  meal.  They  had  stumbled  upon  a  deer 
that  had  just  fallen  under  the  attack  of  a  catamount; 
which,  easily  driven  from  its  yet  warm  and  palpitating 
quarry,  surrendered  the  feast  to  its  unwelcome  visitors. 

An  inspection  of  the  carcass  showed  that  the  animal  had 
been  first  struck  by  the  bullet  of  some  wandering  Indian 
hunter,  a  discovery  that  somewhat  concerned  Nathan, 
until,  after  a  more  careful  examination  of  the  wound, 
which  seemed  neither  severe  nor  mortal,  he  was  convinced 
the  poor  beast  had  run  many  long  miles,  until,  in  fact, 
wholly  exhausted  before  the  panther  had  finished  the  work 
of  the  huntsman.  This  circumstance  removing  his  un- 
easiness, he  helped  himself  to  the  choicest  portion  of  the 
animal,  amputated  a  hind  leg  without  stopping  to  flay  it, 
and,  clapping  this  upon  his  shoulder  in  a  very  businesslike 
way,  left  the  remainder  of  the  carejiss  to  be  despatched  by 
the  wildcat  at  her  leisure. 


NICK   OF    THE    WOODS.  255 

The  little  dell,  in  which  Nathan  proposed  to  cook  and 
enjoy  his  savory  treasure,  at  ease  and  in  safety,  was  en- 
closed by  hills;  of  which  the  one  by  which  they  descended 
into  it  fell  down  in  a  rolling  slope  densely  covered  with 
trees;  while  the  other,  rocky,  barren,  and  almost  naked, 
rose  precipitously  up,  a  grim  picture  of  solitude  and  deso- 
lation. A  scanty  brook,  oozing  along  through  the  swampy 
bottom  of  the  hollow,  and  supplied  by  a  spring  near  its 
head,  at  which  the  two  friends  halted,  to  prepare  their 
meal,  ran  meandering  away,  among  alders  and  other 
swampy  plants,  to  find  exit  into  a  larger  vale  that  opened 
below,  though  hidden  from  the  travellers  by  the  winding 
of  the  rocky  ridge  before  them. 

In  this  lonely  den,  Nathan  and  Roland  began  straight- 
way to  disencumber  themselves  of  arms  and  provisions, 
seeming  well  satisfied  with  its  convenience.  But  not  SQ 
little  Peter;  who,  having  faithfully  accompanied  them  so 
far,  now  following  humbly  at  his  master's  heels,  and  now, 
in  periods  of  alarm  or  doubt,  taking  post  in  front,  the 
leader  of  the  party,  uplifted  his  nose,  and  fell  to  snuffing 
about  him  in  a  way  that  soon  attracted  his  master's  notice. 
Smelling  first  around  the  spring  and  then  giving  a  look 
both  up  and  down  the  glen,  as  if  to  satisfy  himself  there 
was  nothing  wrong  in  either  of  those  quarters,  he  finally 
began  to  ascend  the  rocky  ridge,  snuffing  as  he  went,  and 
ever  and  anon  looking  back  to  his  master,  and  soliciting 
his  attention  by  a  wag  of  his  tail. 

"Truly,  thee  did  once  wag  to  me  in  vain !"  said  Nathan, 
snatching  up  his  gun,  and  looking  volumes  of  sagacious 
response  at  his  brute  ally,  <fbut  thee  won't  catch  me  nap- 
ping again ;  though,  truly,  what  thee  can  smell  here,  where 
is  neither  track  of  man  nor  print  of  beast,  truly,  Peter,  I 
have  no  idea !" 

With  these  words,  he  crept  up  the  hill  himself,  follow- 
ing in  little  Peter's  wake;  and  Roland,  who  also  grasped 
his  rifle,  as  Nathan  had  done,  though  without  perhaps  at- 
taching the  same  importance  to  Peter's  note  of  warning, 
thought  fit  to  imitate  his  example. 


256  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

In  this  manner  cautiously  crawling  up,  the  two  friends 
reached  the  crest  of  the  hill ;  and  peering  over  a  precipice 
of  fifty  or  more  feet  sheer  descent,  with  which  it  suddenly 
dipped  into  a  wild  but  beautiful  little  valley  below,  be- 
held a  scene  that,  besides  startling  them  somewhat  out  of 
their  tranquillity,  caused  both  to  bless  their  good  fortune 
they  had  not  neglected  the  warning  of  their  brute  con- 
federate. 

The  vale  below,  like  that  they  had  left,  opened  into  a 
wider  bottom  land,  the  bed  of  a  creek,  which  they  could 
see  shining  among  the  trees  that  overshadowed  the  rich 
alluvion;  and  into  this  poured  a  rivulet  that  chattered  along 
through  the  glen,  at  their  feet,  in  which  it  had  its  sources. 
The  hill  on  the  other  side  of  the  little  vale,  which  was  of 
an  oval  figure,  narrowest  at  its  outlet,  was  rough  and 
precipitous,  like  that  on  which  they  lay ;  but  the  two  unit- 
ing above,  bounded  the  head  of  the  vale  with  a  long,  bushy, 
sweeping  slope — a  fragment  of  a  natural  amphitheatre — 
which  was  evidently  of  easy  ascent,  though  abrupt  and 
steep.  The  valley  thus  circumscribed,  though  broken, 
and  here  and  there  deeply  furrowed  by  the  watercourse, 
was  nearly  destitute  of  trees,  except  at  its  head,  where  a 
few  young  beeches  flung  their  silver  boughs  and  rich  green 
foliage  abroad  over  the  grassy  knolls,  and  patches  of 
papaws  drooped  their  loose  leaves  and  swelling  fruit  over 
the  stream. 

It  was  in  this  part  of  the  valley,  at  the  distance  of  three 
or  four  hundred  paces  from  them,  that  the  eyes  of  the  two 
adventurers,  directed  by  the  sound  of  voices,  which  they  had 
heard  the  instant  they  reached  the  crest  of  the  ridge,  fell, 
first,  upon  the  smoke  of  a  huge  fire  curling  merrily  up  into 
the  air,  and  then  upon  the  bodies  of  no  less  than  five  In- 
dian warriors,  all  zealously  and  uproariously  engaged  in 
an  amusement  highly  characteristic  of  their  race.  There 
was  among  them  a  white  man,  an  unfortunate  prisoner,  as 
was  seen  at  a  glance,  whom  they  had  bound  by  the  legs  to 
a  tree ;  around  which  the  savages  danced  and  leaped,  yell- 
ing now  with  rage,  now  in  merriment,  but  all  the  white 


OF   THE   WOODS.  257 

belaboring  the  poor  wretch  with  rods  and  switches,  which, 
at  every  turn  round  the  tree,  they  laid  about  his  head  and 
shoulders  with  uncommon  energy  and  zest. 

This  was  a  species  of  diversion  better  relished,  as  it 
seemed,  by  the  captors  than  their  captive;  who,  infuriated 
by  his  pangs,  and  perhaps  desiring,  in  the  desperation  of 
the  moment,  to  provoke  them  to  end  his  sufferings  with  the 
hatchet,  retaliated  with  his  fists,  which  were  at  liberty, 
striking  fiercely  at  every  opportunity,  and  once  with  such 
effect  as  to  tumble  one  of  the  tormentors  to  the  earth, — a 
catastrophe,  however,  that  the  others  rewarded  with  roars 
of  approving  laughter,  though  without  for  a  moment  in- 
termitting their  own  cruelties. 

This  spectacle,  it  may  be  well  supposed,  produced  a 
strong  effect  upon  the  minds  of  the  travellers,  who,  not 
without  alarm  on  their  own  account  at  the  discovery  of 
such  dangerous  neighbors,  could  not  view  without  emotion 
a  fellow  white  man  and  countryman  helpless  in  their  hands, 
and  enduring  tortures  perhaps  preliminary  to  the  more 
dreadful  one  of  the  stake.  They  looked  one  another  in  the 
face;  the  Virginian's  eyes  sparkled  with  a  meaning  which 
Nathan  could  not  misunderstand;  and  clutching  his  rifle 
tighter  in  his  hands,  and  eyeing  the  young  man  with  an 
ominous  stare,  he  muttered, — "Speak,  friend, — thee  is  a 
man  and  a  soldier — what  does  thee  think,  in  the  case  made 
and  provided  ?" 

"We  are  but  two  men,  and  they  five,"  replied  Roland, 
firmly,  though  in  the  lowest  voice;  and  then  repeated,  in 
the  same  energetic  whisper, — "we  are  but  two  men,  Na- 
than ;  but  there  is  no  kinswoman  now  to  unman  me !" 

Nathan  took  another  peep  at  the  savages,  before  speak- 
ing. Then  looking  upon  the  young  man  with  an  uneasy 
countenance,  he  said, — "We  are  but  two  men,  as  thee  says, 
and  they  five ;  and,  truly,  to  do  what  thee  thinks  of,  in  open 
day,  is  a  thing  not  to  be  thought  on  by  men  that  have  soft 
places  in  their  bosoms.  Nevertheless,  I  think,  according 
to  thee  own  opinion,  we  being  strong  men  that  have  the 
wind  of  the  villains,  and  a  good  cause  to  help  us,  truly,  we 


258  NICK   OF   THE    WOODS. 

might  snap  the  poor  man  they  have  captivated  out  of  theii 
hands,  with  considerable  much  of  damage  to  them  besides, 
the  murdering  rapscallions !  But,  friend,"  he  added,  see 
ing  Eoland  give  way  to  his  eagerness, — "thee  spoke  of  th- 
fair  maid,  thee  cousin — if  thee  fights  this  battle,  truly,, 
thee  may  never  see  her  more." 

"If  1  fall/'  said  Roland, — but  he  was  interrupted  by 
Nathan : — 

"It  is  not  that  thee  is  to  think  of.  Truly,  friend,  thee 
may  fight  these  savages,  and  thee  may  vanquish  them ;  but 
unless  thee  believes  in  thee  conscience  thee  can  kill  them 
every  one — truly,  friend,  thee  can  hardly  expect  it?" 

"And  why  should  we?  It  is  enough  if  we  can  rescue 
the  prisoner." 

"Friend,  thee  is  mistaken.  If  thee  attacks  the  villains, 
and  but  one  of  them  escapes  alive  to  the  village,  sounding 
the  alarm,  thee  will  never  enter  the  same  in  search  of  the 
maid,  thee  kinswoman.  Thee  sees  the  case;  thee  must 
choose  between  the  captive  there  and  thee  cousin  I" 

This  was  a  view  of  the  case,  and,  as  Roland  felt,  a  just 
one,  well  calculated  to  stagger  his  resolutions,  if  not  en- 
tirely to  abate  his  sympathy  for  the  unknown  sufferer. 
As  his  hopes  of  success  in  the  enterprise  for  which  he  had 
already  dared  and  endured  so  much,  evidently  depended 
upon  his  ability  to  approach  the  Indian  village  without 
awakening  suspicion,  it  was  undeniable  that  an  attack  upon 
the  party  in  the  vale,  unless  resulting  in  its  complete  de- 
struction, must  cause  to  be  borne  to  the  Black  Vulture's 
town,  and  on  the  wings  of  the  wind,  the  alarm  of  white 
men  in  the  woods;  and  thus  not  only  cut  him  off  from 
it,  but  actually  bring  upon  himself  all  the  fighting  men 
who  might  be  remaining  in  the  village.  To  attack  the 
party,  with  the  expectation  of  wholly  destroying  it,  was, 
or  seemed  to  be,  an  absurdity.  But  to  desert  -a  wretched 
prisoner  whom  he  had  it  perhaps  in  his  power  to  rescue 
from  captivity,  and  from  a  fate  still  more  dreadful,  was  a 
dereliction  of  duty,  of  honor,  of  common  humanity,  of 
which  he  could  scarce  persuade  himself  to  be  guilty. 


NICK   OF   THE   WOODS.  259 

He  cast  his  eyes  upon  the  glen,  and  once  more  looked 
upon  the  captive,  who  had  sunk  to  the  ground  as  if  from 
exhaustion,  and  whom  the  savages,  after  beating  him  awhile 
longer,  as  if  to  force  him  again  on  his  feet,  that  they  might 
enjoy  their  amusement  awhile  longer,  now  fell  to  securing 
with  thongs.  As  Roland  looked,  he  remembered  his  own 
night  of  captivity,  and  hesitated  no  longer.  Turning  to 
Nathan,  who  had  been  earnestly  reading  the  struggles  of 
his  mind,  as  revealed  in  his  face,  he  said,  and  with  un- 
faltering resolution, — "You  say  we  can  rescue  that  man — 
I  was  a  prisoner,  like  him,  bound  too, — a  helpless,  hope- 
less captive, — three  Indians  to  guard  me,  and  but  one 
friend  to  look  upon  me;  yet  did  not  that  friend  abandon 
me  to  my  fate.  God  will  protect  my  poor  cousin,  we  must 
rescue  him !" 

"Thee  is  a  man,  every  inch  of  thee !"  said  Nathan,  with 
a  look  of  uncommon  satisfaction  and  fire ;  "thee  shall  have 
thee  will,  in  the  matter  of  these  murdering  Shawnee  dogs ; 
and  it  may  be,  it  will  be  none  the  worse  for  thee  kins- 
woman." 

With  that,  he  motioned  Roland  to  creep  with  him  beyond 
the  crest  of  the  hill,  where  they  straightway  held  a  hur- 
ried consultation  of  war  to  determine  upon  the  plan  of 
proceedings,  in  the  prosecution  of  an  adventure  so  wild 
and  perilous. 

The  soldier,  burning  with  fierce  ardor,  proposed  that 
they  should  take  post  respectively,  the  one  at  the  head,  the 
other  at  the  outlet  of  the  vale,  and  creeping  as  nigh  the 
enemy  as  they  could,  deliver  their  fire,  and  then  rushing  on, 
before  the  savages  could  recover  from  their  surprise,  do  > 
their  best  to  finish  the  affair  with  their  hatchets,  a  plan 
which,  as  he  just  said,  offered  the  only  prospect  of  cutting 
off  the  retreat  of  those  who  might  survive  the  fire. 

But  Nathan  had  already  schemed  the  matter  otherwise; 
he  had  remarked  the  impossibility  of  approaching  the 
enemy  from  below,  the  valley  offering  no  concealment 
which  would  make  an  advance  in  that  quarter  practicable ; 
whereas  the  bushes  on  the  slope,  where  the  two  walls  of 


260  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

the  glen  united,  afforded  the  most  inviting  opportunity  to 
creep  on  the  foe  without  fear  of  detection. 

"Truly/'  said  he,  fcwe  will  get  us  as  nigh  .the  assassin 
thieves  as  we  can ;  and,  truly,  it  may  be  our  luck,  each  of  us, 
to  get  a  brace  of  them  in  range  together,  and  so  bang  them 
beautiful !" — an  idea  that  was  manifestly  highly  agreeable 
to  his  imagination,  from  which  he  seemed  to  have  utterly 
banished  all  those  disgusts  and  painsgivings  on  the  subject 
of  fighting,  which  had  formerly  afflicted  it;  "or,  perhaps, 
if  we  can  do  nothing  better/'  he  continued,  "we  may  catch 
the  vagabonds  wandering  from  their  guns,  to  pick  up  sticks 
for  their  fire;  in  which  case,  friend,  truly,  it  may  be  our 
luck  to  help  them  to  a  second  volley  out  of  their  own  pieces ; 
or,  if  the  worst  must  come,  truly,  then,  I  do  know  of  a 
device  that  may  help  the  villains  into  our  hands,  even  to 
their  own  undoing !" 

With  these  words,  having  first  examined  his  own  and 
Eoland's  arms  to  see  that  all  were  in  proper  battle  condi- 
tion, and  then  directed  little  Peter  to  ensconce  in  a  bush, 
wherein  little  Peter  straightway  bestowed  himself,  Bloody 
Nathan,  with  an  alacrity  of  motion  and  ardor  of  look  that 
indicated  any  thing  rather  than  distaste  to  the  murderous 
work  in  hand,  led  the  way  along  the  ridge,  until  he  had 
reached  the  place  where  it  dipped  down  to  the  valley,  cov- 
ered with  the  bushes,  through  which  he  expected  to  ad- 
vance to  a  desirable  position  undiscovered. 

But  a  better  auxiliary  even  than  the  bushes  was  soon  dis- 
covered by  the  two  friends.  A  deep  gully,  washed  in  the 
side  of  the  hill  by  the  rains,  was  here  found  running  ob- 
liquely from  its  top  to  the  bottom,  affording  a  covered  way 
/by  which,  as  they  saw,  at  a  glance,  they  could  approach 
within  twenty  or  thirty  yards  of  the  foe  entirely  unseen; 
and,  to  add  to  its  advantages,  it  was  the  bed  of  a  little 
watercourse,  whose  murmurs,  as  it  leaped  from  rock  to 
rock,  assured  them  they  could  as  certainly  approach  un- 
heard. 

"Truly,"  muttered  Nathan,  with  a  grim  chuckle,  as  he 
looked,  first  at  the  friendly  ravine,  and  then  at  the  savages 


NICK   OF   THE    WOODS.  261 

below,  "the  Philistine  rascals  is  in  our  hands,  and  we  will 
smite  them  hip  and  thigh !" 

With  this  inspiring  assurance,  he  crept  into  the  ravine; 
and  Roland  following,  they  were  soon  in  possession  of  a 
post  commanding,  not  only  the  spot  occupied  hy  the 
enemy,  but  the  whole  valley. 

Peeping  through  the  fringe  of  shrubs  that  rose,  a  ver- 
dant parapet,  on  the  brink  of  the  gully,  they  looked  down 
upon  the  savage  party,  now  less  than  forty  paces  from  the 
muzzles  of  their  guns,  and  wholly  unaware  of  the  fate  pre- 
paring for  them.  The  scene  of  diversion  and  torment  was 
over;  the  prisoner,  a  man  of  powerful  frame  but  squalid 
appearance,  whose  hat, — a  thing  of  shreds  and  patches, — 
adorned  the  shorn  pate  of  one  of  the  Indians,  while  his 
coat,  equally  rusty  and  tattered,  hung  from  the  shoulders 
of  a  second,  lay  bound  under  a  tree,  but  so  nigh  that  they 
could  mark  the  laborious  heavings  of  his  chest.  Two  of 
the  Indians  sat  near  him  on  the  grass,  keeping  watch, 
their  hatchets  in  their  hands,  their  guns  resting  within 
reach  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  overthrown  by  some 
hurricane  of  former  years,  and  now  mouldering  away.  A 
third  was  engaged  with  his  tomahawk,  lopping  away  the 
few  dry  boughs  that  remained  on  the  trunk.  Squatting 
at  the  fire,  which  the  third  was  thus  laboring  to  replenish 
with  fuel,  were  the  two  remaining  savages;  who,  holding 
their  rifles  in  their  own  hands,  divided  their  attention  be- 
twixt a  shoulder  of  venison  roasting  on  a  stick  in  the  fire, 
and  the  captive,  whom  they  seemed  to  regard  as  destined  to 
be  sooner  or  later  disposed  of  in  a  similar  manner. 

The  position  of  the  parties  precluded  the  hope  Nathan 
had  ventured  to  entertain  of  getting  them  in  a  cluster,  and 
so  doing  double  execution  with  each  bullet;  but  the  dis- 
appointment neither  chilled  his  ardor,  nor  embarrassed  his 
plans.  His  scheme  of  attack  had  been  framed  to  embrace 
all  contingencies;  and  he  wasted  no  further  time  in  de- 
liberation. A  few  whispered  words  conveyed  his  last  in- 
structions to  the  soldier;  who,  reflecting  that  he  was  fight- 
ing in  the  cause  of  humanity,  remembering  his  own  heavy 


NICK   OF   THE    WOODS. 

wrongs,  and  marking  the  fiery  eagerness  that  flamed  from 
Nathan's  visage,  banished  from  his  mind  whatever  disin- 
clination he  might  have  felt  at  beginning  the  fray  in  a 
mode  so  seemingly  treacherous  and  ignoble.  He  laid  his 
axe  on  the  brink  of  the  gully  at  his  side,  together  with  his 
foraging  cap;  and  then,  thrusting  his  rifle  through  the 
bushes,  took  aim  at  one  of  the  savages  at  the  fire,  Nathan 
directing  his  piece  against  the  other.  Both  of  them  pre- 
sented the  fairest  marks,  as  they  sat  wholly  unconscious  of 
their  danger,  enjoying  in  imagination  the  tortures  yet  to 
be  inflicted  on  the  prisoner.  But  a  noise  in  the  gully, — 
the  falling  of  a  stone  loosened  by  the  soldier's  foot,  or  a 
louder  than  usual  splash  of  water, — suddenly  roused  them 
from  their  dreams;  they  started  up,  and  turned  their  eyes 
towards  the  hill. — "Now,  friend  !"  whispered  Nathan ;  "if 
thee  misses,  thee  loses  thee  maiden,  and  thee  life  into  the 
bargain.  Is  thee  ready  ?" 
"Ready,"  was  the  reply. 

"Right,  then,  through  the  dog's  brain, — fire!" 
The  crash  of  the  pieces,  and  the  fall  of  the  two  victims, 
both  marked  by  a  fatal  aim,  and  both  pierced  through  the 
brain,  were  the  first  announcement  of  peril  to  their  com- 
panions; who,  springing  up  with  yells  of  fear  and  astonish- 
ment, and  snatching  at  their  arms,  looked  wildly  around 
them  for  the  unseen  foe.  The  prisoner  also,  astounded  out 
of  his  despair,  raised  his  head  from  the  grass,  and  glared 
around.  The  wreaths  of  smoke  curling  over  the  bushes 
on  the  hillside  betrayed  the  lurking-place  of  the  assailants, 
and  savages  and  prisoner  turning  together,  they  all  beheld 
at  once  the  spectacle  of  two  human  heads, — or,  to  speak 
more  correctly,  two  human  caps,  for  the  heads  were  far 
below  them, — rising  in  the  smoke,  and  peering  over  the 
bushes,  as  if  to  mark  the  result  of  the  volley.  Loud, 
furious,  and  exulting  were  the  screams  of  the  Indians,  as, 
with  the  speed  of  thought,  seduced  by  a  stratagem  often 
practised  among  the  wild  heroes  of  the  border,  they  raised 
and  discharged  their  pieces  against  the  imaginary  foes  so 
incautiously  exposed  to  their  vengeance.  The  caps  fell 


KICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  263 

and  with  them  the  rifles  that  had  been  employed  to  raise 
them;  and  the  voice  of  Nathan  thundered  through  the 
glen,  as  he  grasped  his  tomahawk  and  sprang  from  the 
ditch, — "Now,  friend!  up  with  thee  axe,  and  do  thee 
duty !" 

With  these  words  the  two  assailants  at  once  leaped  into 
view,  and  with  a  bold  hurrah,  and  bolder  hearts,  rushed 
,  towards  the  fire,  where  lay  the  undischarged  rifles  of  their 
first  victims.  The  savages  yelled  also  in  reply,  and  two 
of  them  bounded  forward  to  dispute  the  prize.  The  third, 
staggered  into  momentary  inaction  by  the  suddenness  and 
amazement  of  the  attack,  rushed  forward  but  a  step;  but 
a  whoop  of  exultation  was  on  his  lips,  as  he  raised  the 
rifle  which  he  had  not  yet  discharged,  full  against  the 
breast  of  Bloody  Nathan. 

But  his  triumph  was  short-lived ;  the  blow,  so  fatal  as  it 
must  have  proved  to  the  life  of  Nathan,  was  averted  by  an 
unexpected  incident.  The  prisoner,  near  whom  he  stood, 
putting  all  his  vigor  into  one  tremendous  effort,  burst  his 
bonds,  and,  with  a  yell  ten  times  louder  and  fiercer  than 
had  been  yet  uttered,  added  himself  to  the  combatants. 
With  a  furious  cry  of  encouragement  to  his  rescuers, — 
"Hurrah  for  Kentucky! — give  it  to  'em  good!"  he  threw 
himself  upon  the  savage,  beat  the  gun  from  his  hands,  and 
grasping  him  in  his  brawny  arms,  hurled  him  to  the  earth, 
where,  rolling  over  and  over  in  mortal  struggle,  growling 
and  whooping,  and  rending  one  another  like  wild  beasts, 
the  two,  still  locked  in  furious  embrace  suddenly  tumbled 
down  the  banks  of  the  brook,  there  high  and  steep,  and 
were  immediately  lost  to  sight. 

Before  this  catastrophe  occurred,  the  other  Indians  and 
the  assailants  met  at  the  fire;  and  each  singling  out  his 
opponent,  and  thinking  no  more  of  the  rifles,  they  met  as 
men  whose  only  business  was  to  kill  or  to  die.  With  his  axe 
flourished  over  his  head,  Nathan  rushed  against  the  tallest 
and  foremost  enemy,  who,  as  he  advanced,  swung  his 
tomahawk,  in  the  act  of  throwing  it.  Their  weapons 
parted  from  their  hands  at  the  same  moment,  and  with 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

perhaps  equal  accuracy  of  aim;  but,  meeting  with  a  crash 
in  the  air,  they  fell  together  to  the  earth,  doing  no  harm 
to  either.  The  Indian  stooped  to  recover  his  weapon,  but 
it  was  too  late;  the  hand  of  Nathan  was  already  upon  his 
shoulder;  a  single  effort  of  his  vast  strength  sufficed  to 
stretch  the  savage  at  his  feet;  and  holding  him  down  with 
knee  and  hand,  Nathan  snatched  up  the  nearest  axe.  "If 
the  life  of  thee  tribe  was  in  thee  bosom,"  he  cried,  with  a 
look  of  unrelenting  fury,  of  hatred,  deep  and  ineffaceable, 
"thee  should  die  the  dog's  death,  as  thee  does !"  and  with 
a  blow  furiously  struck,  and  thrice  repeated,  he  despatched 
the  struggling  savage  as  he  lay. 

He  rose,  brandishing  the  bloody  hatchet,  and  looked  for 
his  companion.  He  found  him  upon  the  earth,  lying  upon 
the  breast  of  his  antagonist,  whom  it  had  been  his  good 
fortune  to  overmaster.  Both  had  thrown  their  hatchets, 
and  both  without  effect,  Roland  because  skill  was  wanting, 
and  the  Shawnee  because,  in  the  act  of  throwing,  he  had 
stumbled  over  the  body  of  one  of  his  comrades,  so  as  to 
disorder  his  aim,  and  even  to  deprive  him  of  his  footing. 
Before  he  could  recover  himself,  Roland  imitated  Nathan's 
example,  and  threw  himself  upon  the  unlucky  Indian, — a 
youth,  as  it  appeared,  whose  strength,  perhaps  at  no  mo- 
ment equal  to  his  own,  had  been  reduced  by  recent  wounds, 
— and  found  that  he  had  him  entirely  at  his  mercy.  This 
circumstance,  and  the  knowledge  that  the  other  Indians 
were  now  overpowered,  softened  the  soldier's  wrath;  and 
when  Nathan,  rushing  to  assist  him,  cried  aloud  to  him  to 
move  aside,  that  he  might  "knock  the  assassin  knave's 
brains  out,"  Roland  replied  by  begging  Nathan  to  spare 
his  life,  "I  have  disarmed  him/'  he  cried — "he  resists  no 
more — don't  kill  him/' 

"To  the  last  man  of  his  tribe !"  cried  Nathan,  with  unex- 
ampled ferocity;  and,  without  another  word,  drove  the 
hatchet  into  the  wretch's  brain. 

The  victors  now  leaping  to  their  feet,  looked  round  for 
the  fifth  savage  and  the  prisoner;  and  directed  by  a  horri- 
ble din  under  the  bank  of  the  stream,  which  was  resound- 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  265 

ing  with  curses,,  groans,  heavy  blows,  and  the  splashing  of 
water,  ran  to  the  spot,  where  the  last  incident  of  battle 
was  revealed  to  them  in  a  spectacle  as  novel  as  it  was 
shocking.  The  Indian  lay  on  his  back,  suffocating  in  mire 
and  water,  while  astride  his  body  sat  the  late  prisoner, 
covered  from  head  to  foot  with  mud  and  gore,  furiously 
plying  his  fists,  for  he  had  no  other  weapons,  about  the 
head  and  face  of  his  foe,  his  blows  falling  like  sledge 
hammers  or  battering  rams,  with  such  strength  and  fury, 
that  it  seemed  impossible  any  one  of  them  could  fail  to 
crush  the  skull  to  atoms ;  and  all  the  while  garnishing  them 
with  a  running  accompaniment  of  oaths  and  maledictions 
little  less  emphatic  and  overwhelming.  "You  switches 
gentlemen,  do  you,  you  exflunctified,  perditioned  rascal? 
Arn't  you  got  it,  you  nigger-in-law  to  old  Sattan?  you 
'tarnal  half-imp  you?  H'yar's  for  you,  you  dog,  and 
thar's  for  you,  dog's  dog !  EPyar's  the  way  I  pay  you  in 
a  small  change  of  sogdologers !" 

And  thus  he  cried,  until  Roland  and  Nathan,  seizing 
him  by  the  shoulders,  dragged  him  by  main  force  from  the 
Indian,  whom,  as  was  found,  when  they  came  to  examine 
the  body  afterwards,  he  had  actually  pommelled  to  death, 
the  skull  having  been  beaten  in  as  with  bludgeons.  The 
victor  sprang  upon  his  feet,  and  roared  his  triumph  aloud, 
— "Arn't  I  licked  him  handsome !  Hurrah  for  Kentucky 
and  old  Salt— Cock-a-doodle-doo !" 

And  with  that,  turning  to  his  deliverers,  he  displayed 
to  their  astonished  eyes,  though  disfigured  by  blood  and 
mire,  the  never-to-be-forgotten  features  of  the  captain  of 
horse-thieves,  Soaring  Ralph  Stackpole. 


266  KICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

And,  had  you  not  by  wondrous  fortune  come, 
TMs  vengeance  on  me  had  they  executed. 

— Titus   Andronicus. 

THE  amazement  of  Stackpole,  at  finding  to  whom  he 
owed  his  deliverance,  was  not  less  than  that  of  the  travel- 
lers; but  it  was  mingled  in  his  case  with  feelings  of  the 
most  unbounded  and  clamorous  delight.  Nathan  he 
grasped  by  the  hands,  being  the  first  upon  whom  he  set  his 
eyes ;  but  no  sooner  had  they  wandered  to  the  soldier,  than 
throwing  his  arms  around  him,  he  gave  him  a  hug,  neither 
tender  nor  respectful,  but  indicative  of  the  intensest  affec- 
tion and  rapture. 

"You  cut  the  rope,  strannger,  and  you  cut  the  tug,"  he 
cried,  "on  madam's  beseeching!  but  h'yar's  the  time  you 
helped  me  out  of  a  fix  without  axing !  Now,  strannger,  I 
arn't  your  dog,  'cause  how,  I'm  anngelliferous  madam's; 
but  if  I  arn't  your  dog,  I'm  your  man,  Ralph  Stackpole,  to 
be  your  true  blue  through  time  and  etarnity,  any  way  you'll 
ax  me ;  and  if  you  wants  a  sodger,  I'll  list  with  you,  I  will, 
'tarnal  death  to  me !" 

"But  how,  in  heaven's  name,  came  you  here  a  prisoner? 
I  saw  you  escape  with  mine  own  eyes,"  said  Roland,  better 
pleased,  perhaps,  at  the  accession  of  such  a  stout  auxiliary 
than  with  his  mode  of  professing  love  and  devotion. 

"Strannger,"  said  Ralph,  "if  you  war  to  ax  me  from  now 
till  doomsday  about  the  why  and  the  wharfo',  I  couldn't 
make  you  more  nor  one  answer ;  I  come  to  help  annegellif- 
erous  madam  out  of  the  hands  of  the  abbregynes,  accord- 
ing to  my  sworn  duty  as  her  natteral-born  slave  and  re- 
demptioner!  I  war  hard  on  the  track  when  the  villains 
here  caught  me." 

"What !"  cried  Roland,  his  heart  for  the  first  time  warm- 
ing towards  the  despised  horse-thief,  while  even  Nathan 
eurveyed  him  with  something  like  complacency,  "you  are 


NICK   OF    THE   WOODS. 

following  my  poor  cousin,  then?  You  were  not  6rought 
here  a  prisoner?" 

"If  I  war  I  wish  I  may  be  shot/'  said  Ealph ;  "it  warn't 
a  mile  back,  on  the  ridge,  whar  the  Injuns  nipped  me; 
'cause  how,  I  jist  banged  away  at  a  deer,  and  jist  then  up 
jumps  the  rascals  on  me,  af  o'  I  had  loaded  old  speechifier ; 
and  so  they  nabb'd  me!  And  so,  sodger,  h'yar's  the  way 
of  it  all.  You  see  d'you  see,  as  soon  as  Tom  Bruce  comes 
to,  so  as  to  be  able  to  hold  the  hoss  himself " 

"What,"  said  Roland,  "was  he  not  mortally  wounded?" 

"He  arn't  hurt  much  to  speak  on,  for  all  of  his  looking 
so  much  like  coffin-meat  at  the  first  jump ;  it  war  a  kind  of 
narvousness  that  come  over  him  that  men  feels  when  the]- 
gets  the  thwack  of  a  bullet  among  tbe  narves.  And  so, 
you  see,  d'you  see,  says  I,  'Tom  Bruce,  do  you  stick  to  the 
crittur,  and  he'll  holp  you  out  of  the  skrimmage;'  and 
says  I,  'I'll  take  the  back  track,  and  follow  atter  madam.' 
And  says  he,  says  he — but,  'tarnal  death  to  me,  let's  scalp 
these  h'yar  dead  villains,  and  do  the  talking  atter?  Did 
you  see  the  licking  I  gin  this  here  feller?  It  war  a 
reggelar  fair  knock-down-and-drag-out,  and  I  lick'd  him! 
Thar's  all  sorts  of  ways  of  killing  Injuns;  but  I  reckon 
I'm  the  only  gentleman  in  all  Kentuck  as  ever  took  a 
scalp  in  the  way  of  natur' !  Hurrah  for  Kentuck!  and 
hurrah  for  Ralph  Stackpole,  for  he  ar  a  screamer !" 

The  violation  of  the  dead  bodies  was  a  mode  of  crowning 
their  victory  which  Roland  would  have  gladly  dispensed 
with;  but  such  forbearance,  opposed  to  all  border  ideas  of 
manly  spirit  and  propriety,  found  no  advocate  in  the  cap- 
tain of  horse-thieves,  and  none,  we  are  sorry  to  say,  even 
in  the  conscientious  Nathan,  who,  having  bathed  his  peace- 
ful sword  too  deep  in  blood  to  boggle  longer  at  trifles, 
seemed  mightily  inclined  to  try  his  own  hand  at  the  exer- 
cise. But  this  addition  to  the  catalogue  of  his  back- 
slidings  was  spared  him.  Roaring  Ralph  falling  to  work 
with  an  energy  of  spirit  and  rapidity  of  execution  which 
showed  he  needed  no  assistance,  and  left  no  room  for  com- 
petition. 


#68  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

Such  is  the  practice  of  the  border,  and  such  it  has  been, 
ever  since  the  mortal  feud,  never  destined  to  be  realh 
ended  but  with  the  annihilation  of  the  American  race, 
first  began  between  the  savage  and  the  white  intruder.  It 
was,  and  is,  essentially  a  measure  of  retaliation,  compelled, 
if  not  justified,  by  the  ferocious  example  of  the  red-man. 
Brutality  ever  begets  brutality ;  and  magnanimity  of  arms 
can  be  only  exercised  in  the  case  of  a  magnanimous  foe. 
With  such,  the  wildest  and  fiercest  rover  of  the  frontier 
becomes  a  generous,  and  even  humane  enemy. 

The  Virginian  was  yet  young  in  the  war  of  the  wilder- 
ness; and  turning  in  disgust  from  a  scene  he  could  not 
prevent,  he  made  his  way  to  the  fire,  where  the  haunch  of 
venison,  sending  forth  a  savory  steam  through  the  whole 
valley,  was  yet  roasting  on  the  rude  Indian  spit, — a  spec- 
tacle which  (we  record  it  with  shame)  quite  banished  from 
his  mind,  not  only  all  thoughts  of  Ralph's  barbarism,  but 
even  the  sublime  military  ardor  awakened  by  the  din  and 
perils  of  the  late  conflict.  Nor  were  its  effects  less  po- 
tential upon  Nathan  and  Ralph,  who,  having  first  washed 
from  their  hands  and  faces  the  stains  of  battle,  now  drew 
nigh,  snuffing  the  perfume  of  a  dinner  with  as  much  ardor 
as  they  could  have  bestowed  on  the  scent  of  battle.  The 
haunch,  cooked  to  their  hands,  was  straightway  removed  to 
a  convenient  place;  where  all,  drawing  their  knives,  fell 
foul  with  an  energy  of  appetite  and  satisfaction  that  left 
them  oblivious  of  most  sublunary  affairs.  The  soldier  for- 
got his  sorrows,  and  Nathan  forgot  little  Peter, — though 
little  Peter,  by  suddenly  creeping  out  of  the  bushes  on  the 
1  hill,  and  crawling  humbly  to  the  table,  and  his  master's 
side,  made  it  apparent  he  had  not  forgot  himself. 

As  for  the  captain  of  horse-thieves,  he  forgot  every  thing 
save  the  dinner  itself,  which  he  attacked  with  an  appetite 
well  nigh  ravenous,  having,  as  he  swore,  by  way  of  grace 
over  the  first  mouthful,  eaten  nothing  save  roots  and  leaves 
for  more  than  three  days.  It  was  only  when,  by  despatch- 
ing at  least  twice  his  share  of  the  joint,  he  began  to  feel, 
as  he  said,  "summat  like  a  hoss  and  a  gentleman,"  that 


NICK   OF    THE    WOODS.  269 

the  others  succeeded  in  drawing  from  him  a  full  account 
of  the  circumstances  which  had  attended  his  solitary  in- 
road into  the  Indian  country,  and  his  fall  into  the  clutches 
of  the  Shawnee  party. 

But  little  had  the  faithful  fellow  to  impart,  beyond  what 
he  had  already  told.  Galloping  frorn  the  fatal  hill,  the 
scene  of  defeat  to  the  young  Kentuckians,  he  sustained  Tom 
Bruce  in  his  arms,  until  the  latter,  reviving,  had  recovered 
strength  enough  to  provide  for  his  own  safety ;  upon  which 
Ealph,  with  a  degree  of  quixotism  that  formed  a  part  of 
his  character,  and  which  was,  in  this  instance,  strengthened 
hy  his  grateful  devotion  to  Edith,  the  saver  of  his  life,  de- 
clared he  would  pursue  the  trail  of  her  captors,  even  if  it 
led  him  to  their  village,  nor  cease  his  efforts  until  he  had 
rescued  her  out  of  their  hands,  or  laid  down  his  life  in 
her  service.  In  this  resolution  he  was  encouraged  by 
Bruce,  who  swore,  on  his  part,  that  he  would  instantly  fol- 
low with  his  father,  and  all  the  men  he  could  raise,  recover 
the  prisoners,  and  burn  the  towns  of  the  whole  Shawnee 
nation  about  their  ears;  a  determination  he  was  perhaps 
the  more  readily  driven  to  by  the  reflection,  that  the  un- 
lucky captives  were  his  father's  individual  guests,  and  had 
been  snatched  away  while  still,  in  a  manner,  under,  or 
relying  on,  his  father's  protection.  So  much  he  promised, 
and  so  much  there  was  no  doubt  he  would,  if  able,  perform ; 
nevertheless,  he  exhorted  Ralph  to  do  his  best  in  the  mean 
while  to  help  the  strangers,  vowing,  if  he  succeeded  in 
rendering  them  any  assistance,  or  in  taking  a  single  scalp 
of  the  villains  that  had  borne  them  off,  he  would  not  only 
never  lynch  him  himself,  but  would  not  even  allow  others 
to  do  it,  though  he  were  to  steal  all  the  horses  in  Kentucky, 
his  father's  best  bay  mare  included. 

Thus  encouraged,  the  valiant  horse-thief,  bidding  fare- 
well to  Tom  Bruce  and  Brown  Briareus  together,  com- 
menced making  good  his  words,  by  creeping  back  to  the 
battlefield;  when,  arriving  before  Nathan,  he  struck  the 
trail  of  the  main  party,  and  immediately  pursued  it  with 
zeal  and  courage,  but  still  with  the  necessary  caution  and 


NICK    OF  -THE    WOODS. 

circumspection;  his  hopes  of  being  able  to  do  something 
to  the  advantage  of  his  benefactress,  resting  principally  on 
his  knowledge  of  several  of  the  outer  Indian  towns,  in 
every  one  of  which,  he  boasted,  he  had  stolen  horses. 

Being  but  poorly  provided  with  food,  and  afraid  to  hunt 
while  following  so  closely  on  the  heels  of  the  marauders,  ho 
was  soon  reduced  to  want  and  suffering,  which  he  bore  for 
three  days  with  heroic  fortitude;  until  at  last,  on  the 
morning  of  the  present  day,  being  in  a  state  of  utter  star- 
vation, and  a  buck  springing  up  in  his  path,  he  could  re- 
sist the  temptation  no  longer,  and  so  fired  upon  it.  The 
animal  being  wounded,  and  apparently  severely,  he  set  off 
in  pursuit,  too  eager  to  lose  time  by  re-charging  his  piece ; 
and  it  was  while  he  was  in  that  defenceless  condition  that 
the  five  Indians,  a  detachment  and  rearguard  as  it  proved, 
of  the  very  party  he  was  dogging,  attracted  by  the  sound 
of  his  g*un,  stole  upon  him  unawares  and  made  him  a 
prisoner., 

This,  it  seems,  had  happened  but  a  short  distance  be- 
hind ;  and  there  was  every  reason  to  suppose  that  the  buck 
*rom  whose  loins  the  travellers  had  filched  the  haunch, 
that  destiny  had  superseded  by  a  better,  was  the  identical 
animal  whose  seducing  appearance  had  brought  Stackpole 
into  captivity.  He  was  immediately  recognized  by  his 
captors,  whose  exultation  was  boundless,  as  indeed  was  their 
cruelty;  and  he  could  only  account  for  their  halting  with 
him  in  that  retired  hollow,  instead  of  pushing  on  to  dis- 
play their  prize  to  the  main  body,  by  supposing  they  could 
not  resist  their  desire  to  enjoy  a  snug  little  foretaste  of  the 
joys  of  torturing  him  at  the  stake,  all  by  themselves, — a 
right  they  had  earned  by  their  good  fortune  in  taking  him. 
In  the  valley,  then,  they  had  paused,  and  tying  him  up, 
proceeded  straightway  to  flog  him  to  their  heart's  content ; 
and  they  had  just  resolved  to  intermit  the  amusement 
awhile  in  favor  of  their  dinner,  when  the  appearance  of 
his  boldest  deliverers,  rushing  into  their  camp,  converted 
the  scene  of  brutal  merriment  into  one  of  retributive  ven- 
geance and  blood. 


OF   THE    WOODS. 

The  discovery  that  the  five  human  beings  he  had  con- 
tributed so  much  to  destroy,  were  part  and  parcel  of  the 
very  band,  the  authors  of  all  his  sufferings,  and  captors  of 
his  kinswoman,  abated  some  little  feelings  of  compunction 
with  which  Eoland  had  begun  occasionally  to  look  upon 
the  gory  corses  around  him. 

The  main  body  of  marauders,  with  their  prisoner,  there 
seemed  good  reason  to  suppose  were  yet  upon  their  march 
to  the  village,  though  too  far  advanced  to  leave  any  hope 
of  overtaking  them,  were  that  even  desirable.  It  is  true, 
that  Eoland,  fired  by  the  thought  of  being  so  near  his  kins- 
woman, and  having  before  his  eyes  a  proof  of  what  might 
be  done  by  craft  and  courage,  even  against  overwhelming 
numbers,  urged  Nathan  immediately  to  recommence  the 
pursuit;  the  Indians  would  doubtless  halt  to  rest  and  re- 
fresh, as  the  luckless  five  had  done,  and  might  be  ap- 
proached and  destroyed,  now  that  they  themselves  had  in- 
creased their  forces  by  the  rescue  of  Kalph,  in  the  same 
way,  "We  can  carry  with  us,"  he  said,  "these  Indians' 
guns,  with  which  we  shall  be  more  than  a  match  for  the 
villains;"  and  he  added  other  arguments,  such,  however, 
as  appeared  much  more  weighty  to  himself  than  to  honest 
Nathan. 

That  the  main  party  should  have  halted,  as  he  supposed, 
did  not  appear  at  all  probable  to  Nathan;  they  had  no 
-lause  to  arrest  them  in  their  journey,  and  they  were  but  a 
few  miles  removed  from  the  village,  whither  they  would 
doubtless  proceed  without  delay  to  enjoy  the  rewards  of 
their  villainy,  and  end  the  day  in  revelry  and  debauch. 
"And  truly,  friend,"  he  added,  "it  will  be  better  for  thee, 
and  me,  and  the  maid  Edith,  that  we  steal  her  by  night  • 
from  out  of  a  village  defended  only  by  drowsy  squaws  and 
drunken  warriors,  than  if  we  were  to  aim  at  taking  her 
out  of  the  camp  of  a  war  party.  Do  thee  keep  thee  pa- 
tience ;  and,  truly,  there  is  no  telling  what  good  may  come 
of  it."  In  short,  Nathan  had  here,  as  in  previous  in- 
stances, made  up  his  mind  to  conduct  affairs  his  own  way ; 


KICK    OF    THE   WOODS. 

and  Eoland,  though  torn  by  impatience,  could  do  nothing- 
better  than  submit. 

And  now,  the  dinner  being  at  last  despatched,  Nathan 
directed  that  the  bodies  of  the  slain  Indians  should  be 
tumbled  into  a  gully,  and  hidden  from  sight;  a  measure 
of  such  evident  precaution  as  to  need  no  explanation.  This 
was  immediately  done;  but  not  before  Ealph  and  the  man 
of  peace  had  well  rummaged  the  pouches  of  the  dead,  help- 
ing themselves  to  such  valuables  and  stores  of  provender 
and  ammunition  as  they  could  lay  hands  on ;  in  addition  to 
which,  Nathan  stripped  from  one  a  light  Indian  hunting- 
shirt,  from  another  a  blanket,  a  woman's  shawl,  and  a 
medicine  bag,  from  a  third  divers  jingling  bundles  of 
brooches  and  hawk-bells,  together  with  a  pouch  containing 
vermilion  and  other  paints,  the  principal  articles  of  savage 
toilet;  which  he  made  up  into  a  bundle,  to  be  used  for  a 
purpose  he  did  not  conceal  from  his  comrades.  He  then 
seized  upon  the  rifles  of  the  dead  (from  among  which 
Stackpole  had  already  singled  out  his  own),  and,  remov- 
ing the  locks,  hid  them  away  in  crannies  of  the  cliffs,  con- 
cealing the  locks  in  other  places; — a  disposition  which  he 
also  made  of  the  knives  and  tomahawks;  remarking,  with 
great  justice,  that  "if  honest  Christian  men  were  to  have 
no  good  of  the  weapons,  it  was  just  as  well  murdering 
Injuns  should  be  no  bettter  off." 

These  things  concluded,  the  dead  covered  over  with 
boughs  and  brambles,  and  nothing  left  in  the  vale  to  attract 
a  passing  and  unobservant  eye,  he  gave  the  signal  to  re- 
sume the  march,  and  with  Eoland  and  Captain  Ealph  stole 
from  the  field  of  battle. 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  273 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

List,  list!  I  hear 
Some  far-off  halloo  break  the  silent  air. 

— Comus. 

THE  twilight  was  darkening  in  the  west  when  the  three 
adventurers,  stealing  through  tangled  thickets  and  along 
lonely  ridges,  carefully  avoiding  all  frequented  paths, 
looked  out  at  last,  from  a  distant  hill,  upon  the  valley  in 
which  lay  the  village  of  the  Black  Vulture.  The  ruddy 
light  of  evening,  bursting  from  clouds  of  crimson  and 
purple,  and  shooting  down  through  gaps  of  the  hills  in 
cascades  of  fire,  fell  brightly  and  sweetly  on  the  little 
•orairies  or  natural  meadow  lands,  which,  dotted  over  with 
clumps  of  trees,  and  watered  by  a  fairy  river,  a  tributary 
j>f  the  rapid  Miami,  winding  along  from  side  to  side,  now 
hiding  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  hills,  now  glancing  into 
light,  gave  an  air  of  tender  beauty  to  the  scene,  better  be- 
fitting, as  it  might  have  seemed,  the  retreat  of  the  inno- 
cent and  peaceful  sons  of  Oberon,  than  the  wild  and  war- 
like children  of  the  wilderness.  Looking  further  up  the 
vale,  the  eye  fell  upon  patches  of  ripening  maize,  waving 
along  the  river,  and,  beyond  these,  just  where  the  valley 
winded  away  behind  the  hills,  at  the  distance  of  a  mile  or 
more,  thin  wreaths  of  smoke,  creeping  from  roofs  of  bark 
and  skins,  indicated  the  presence  of  the  Indian  village. 

Thus  arrived  at  the  goal  and  haven  of  their  hopes,  the 
theatre  in  which  was  to  be  acted  the  last  scene  in  the  drama 
of  their  enterprise,  the  travellers  surveyed  it  for  a  while 
from  their  concealment  in  deep  silence,  each  speculating  in 
his  own  mind  upon  the  exploits  still  to  be  achieved,  the 
perils  yet  to  be  encountered,  ere  success  should  crown  their 
exertions,  already  so  arduous  and  so  daring ;  then,  creeping 
back  again  into  a  deep  hollow  convenient  for  their  purpose, 
they  held  their  last  consultation,  and  made  their  final 
preparations  for  entering  the  village.  This  Nathan  at 
first  proposed  to  do  entirely  alone,  to  spy  out  the  condition 


NICK   OF   THE    WOODS. 

of  the  village,  and  to  discover,  if  possible,  in  what  quarter 
the  marauders  had  bestowed  the  unhappy  Edith;  and  this 
being  a  duty  requiring  the  utmost  secrecy  and  circumspec- 
tion, he  insisted  it  could  not  be  safely  committed  to  more 
than  one  person. 

"In  that  case,"  said  valiant  Ealph,  "I'm  your  gentle- 
man. Do  you  think,  old  father  Bloody  (and,  'tarnal  death 
to  me,  I  do  think  you're  'ginnin'  to  be  a  peeler  of  the  rale 
ring-tail  specie — I  do,  old  Eusty,  and  thar's  my  fo'-paw 
on  it.  You've  got  to  be  a  man  at  last,  a  feller  for  close 
locks  and  fighting  Injuns  that's  quite  cur'ou^  to  think  on, 
and  I'll  lick  any  man  that  says  a  word  agin  you,  I  will, 
'tarnal  death  to  me) ;  but  I  say,  do  you  think  I'm  come  so 
far  atter  madam  to  gin  up  the  helping  her  out  of  bondago 
to  any  mortal  two-legg'd  crittur  whatsomever?  I'm  the 
person  what  knows  this  h'yar  town  better  nor  ar*  another 
feller  in  all  Kentucky,  and  that  I  stick  on,  for,  cuss  me, 
I've  stole  hosses  in  it !" 

"Truly,"  said  Nathan,  after  reflecting  awhile,  "thee 
might  make  theeself  of  service  to  the  maid,  even  in  thee 
own  way;  but,  verily,  thee  is  an  unlucky  man,  and  thee 
brings  bad  luck  wheresoever  thee  goes,  and  I'm  afeard  of 
thee." 

"Afeard  of  your  nose !"  said  Ealph,  with  great  indigna- 
tion. "Arn't  I  jist  been  slicked  out  of  the  paws  of  five 
mortal  abbregynes  that  had  me  in  the  tugs  ?  and  arn't  that 
luck  enough  for  any  feller?  I  tell  you  what,  Bloody  Na- 
than, me  and  you  will  snuff  the  track  together;  you  shall 
hunt  up  angelliferous  madam,  and  gin  her  my  compliments, 
and,  while  you're  about  it,  I'll  steal  her  a  horse  to  ride  off 
on!" 

"Truly,"  said  Nathan,  complacently,  "I  was  thinking  of 
that;  for  they  says  thee  is  good  in  a  horse-pound,  and  it 
needs  the  poor  maid  should  have  something  better  to  de- 
pend on  in  flight  than  her  own  poor  innocent  legs.  And 
so,  friend,  if  thee  thinks  in  thee  conscience  thee  can  help 
her  to  a  strong  animal,  without  fear  of  discovery,  I  don't 
care  if  thee  goes  with  me;  and  truly,  if  thee  could  stea] 


NICK   OF    THE    WOODS.  275 

two  or  three  more  of  the  creatures  for  our  own  riding,  it 
might  greatly  advantage  the  maid." 

"Thar  you  talk  like  a  feller  of  gumption,"  said  Ralph: 
''only  show  me  the  sight  of  a  bit  of  skin  rope  for  halters, 
and  you'll  see  a  sample  of  hoss-stealing  to  make  your  ha'r 
stand  on  eend !" 

"Of  a  truth,"  said  Nathan,  "thee  shan't  want  for  hal- 
ters, if  leather  can  make  them.  There  is  that  on  my  back 
which  will  make  thee  a  dozen;  and  truly,  as  it  needs  I 
should  now  put  me  on  attire  more  suitable  to  an  Injun 
village,  it  is  a  satisfaction  thee  can  put  the  old  garment  to 
such  good  use." 

With  these  words,  Nathan  stripped  off  his  coat  of  skins, 
so  aged  and  so  venerable,  and  gave  it  to  the  captain  of 
horse-thieves,  who,  vastly  delighted  with  the  prize,  in- 
stantly commenced  cutting  it  into  strips,  which  he  twisted 
together,  and  fashioned  into  rude  halters,  whilst  Nathan 
supplied  its  place  by  the  loose  calico  shirt  he  had  selected 
from  among  the  spoils  of  the  Indian  party,  throwing  over 
it,  mantlewise,  the  broad  Indian  blanket.  His  head  he 
'bound  round  with  the  gaudy  shawl  which  he  had  also  taken 
from  the  brows  of  a  dead  foeman;  and  he  hung  about  his 
person  various  pouches  and  ornamented  belts,  provided  for 
the  purpose.  Then,  daubing  over  his  face,  arms,  and 
breast  with  streaks  of  red,  black,  and  green  paint,  that 
eeemed  designed  to  represent  snakes,  lizards,  and  other 
reptiles,  he  was,  on  a  sudden,  converted  into  a  highly  re- 
spectable-looking savage,  as  grim  and  awe-inspiring  as 
these  barbaric  ornaments  and  his  attire,  added  to  his  lofty 
stature,  could  make  him.  Indeed,  the  metamorphosis  was 
so  complete,  that  Captain  Ralph,  as  he  swore,  could  scarce 
look  at  him  without  longing,  as  this  worthy  personage  ex- 
pressed it,  "to  be  at  his  top-knot." 

In  the  meanwhile,  Forrester  had  not  deferred  with 
patience  to  an  arrangement  which  threatened  to  leave  him, 
the  most  interested  of  all,  in  inglorious  activity,  while  his 
companions  were  laboring  in  the  cause  of  his  Edith.  He 
remonstrated,  and  insisted  upon  accompanying  them  to 


NICK    OF   THE    WOODS. 

the  village,  to  share  with  them  all  the  dangers  of  the 
enterprise. 

"If  there  was  danger  to  none  but  ourselves,  truly,  thee 
should  go  with  us  and  welcome,"  said  Nathan,  represent- 
ing, justly  enough,  the  little  service  that  Roland,  destitute 
of  the  requisite  knowledge  and  skill,  could  be  expected  to 
render,  and  the  dangers  he  must  necessarily  bring  upon  the 
others,  in  case  of  any,  the  most  ordinary  difficulties  aris- 
ing in  their  progress  through  the  village.  Everything 
must  now  depend  upon  address,  upon  cunning  and  pres- 
ence of  mind;  the  least  indiscretion  (and  how  many  might 
not  the  soldier,  his  feelings  wound  up  to  a  pitch  of  the 
intensest  excitement,  commit),  must  of  a  necessity  termi- 
nate in  the  instant  destruction  of  all.  In  short,  Roland 
was  convinced,  though  sorely  against  his  will,  that  wisdom 
and  affection  both  called  on  him  to  play  the  part  Nathan 
assigned  him;  and  he  submitted  to  be  ruled  accordingly, 
with  the  understanding,  however,  that  the  rendezvous,  in 
which  he  was  to  await  the  operations  of  the  others,  should 
be  upon  the  very  borders  of  the  village,  whence  he  might, 
in  any  pressing  emergency,  in  case  of  positive  danger  and 
conflict,  be  immediately  called  to  their  assistance. 

When  the  twilight  had  darkened  away,  and  the  little 
river,  rippling  along  on  its  course,  sparkled  only  in  the 
light  of  the  stars,  the  three  friends  crept  from  their  retreat, 
and  descended  boldly  into  the  valley;  where,  guided  by 
the  barking  of  dogs,  the  occasional  yells  of  a  drunken  or 
gamesome  savage,  and  now  and  then  the  red  glare  of  a  fire 
flashing  from  the  open  crannies  of  a  cabin,  they  found 
little  difficulty  in  approaching  the  Indian  village.  It  was 
situated  on  the  further  bank  of  the  stream,  and,  as  de- 
scribed, just  behind  the  bend  of  the  vale,  at  the  bottom  of 
a  rugged,  but  not  lofty  hill ;  which,  jutting  almost  into  the 
river,  left  yet  space  enough  for  the  forty  or  fifty  lodges 
composing  the  village,  sheltering  them  in  winter  from  the 
bitter  blasts  that  rush,  at  that  season,  from  the  northern 
lakes.  Beyond  the  river,  on  the  side  towards  the  travel- 
lers, the  vale  was  broader;  and  it  was  there  the 


NICK    OF    THE     ^OODS. 

had  chiefly  planted  their  corn-fields, — fields  enriched  by 
the  labor,  perhaps  also  by  the  tears,  of  their  oppressed  and 
degraded  women. 

Arriving  at  the  borders  of  the  cultivated  grounds,  the 
three  adventurers  crossed  the  river,  which  was  neither 
broad  nor  deep,  and  stealing  among  logs  and  stumps  at 
the  foot  of  the  hill,  where  some  industrious  savage  had  in 
former  years  begun  to  clear  a  field,  which,  however,  his 
wives  had  never  planted,  they  lay  down  in  concealment, 
waiting  until  the  subsiding  of  the  unusual  bustle  in  the 
village,  a  consequence  manifestly  of  the  excesses  which 
Nathan  predicted  the  victors  would  indulge  in,  should 
render  their  further  advance  impracticable. 

But  this  was  not  the  work  of  a  moment.  The  savage 
can  drink  and  dance  through  the  night  with  as  lusty  a  zeal 
as  his  white  neighbor;  the  song,  the  jest,  the  merry  tale, 
are  as  dear  to  his  imagination;  and  in  the  retirement  of 
his  own  village,  feeling  no  longer  the  restraint  of  solid 
gravity, — assumed  in  the  haunts  of  the  white  man  less  to 
play  the  part  of  a  hero  than  to  cover  the  nakedness  of  his 
own  inferiority, — he  can  give  himself  up  to  wild  andul- 
gence,  the  sport  of  whim  and  frolic;  and  when  the  fire- 
water is  the  soul  of  the  feast,  the  feast  only  ends  with  the 
last  drop  of  liquor. 

It  could  be  scarcely  doubted  that  the  Indians  of  the  vil- 
lage were  this  night  paying  their  devotions  to  the  Manito 
of  the  rum-keg,  and  drinking  folly  and  fury  together  from 
the  enchanted  draught,  which  one  of  the  bravest  of  the 
race — its  ardorer  and  victim,  like  Logan  the  heroic,  and 
Red-Jacket  the  renowned, — declared  could  only  have  been 
distilled  "from  the  hearts  of  wildcats  and  the  tongues  of 
women, — it  made  him  so  fierce  and  so  foolish;"  nor  could 
it,  on  the  other  hand,  be  questioned  that  many  a  sad  and 
gloomy  reminiscence,  the  recollection  of  wrong,  of  defeat, 
of  disaster,  of  the  loss  of  friends  and  of  country,  was 
mingled  in  the  joy  of  the  debauch. 

From  their  lurking-place  near  the  village,  the  three 
friends  could  hear  many  a  wild  whoop,  now  fierce  and 


NICK    OF    THE   WOODS. 

startling,  now  plaintive  and  mourning, — the  one,  as  Na- 
than and  Ralph  said,  the  halloo  for  revenge,  the  other  the 
whoop  of  lamentation, — at  intervals  chiming  strangely  in 
with  unmeaning  shrieks  and  roaring  laughter,  the  squeak- 
ing of  women  and  the  gibbering  of  children,  with  the 
barking  of  curs,  the  utterance  of  obstreperous  enjoyment, 
in  which  the  whole  village,  brute  and  human,  seemed 
equally  to  share.  For  a  time,  indeed,  one  might  have 
deemed  the  little  hamlet  an  outer  burgh  of  Pandemonium 
itself;  and  the  captain  of  horse-thieves  swore,  that,  hav- 
ing been  of  opinion  "the  red  abbregynes  war  the  rale 
children  of  Sattan,  and  niggurs  only  the  grand-boys,  he 
should  now  hold  the  matter  to  be  as  settled  as  if  booked 
down  in  an  almanac, — he  would,  'tarnal  death  to  him." 

But  if  the  festive  spirit  of  the  barbarians  might  have 
lasted  for  ever,  there  was,  it  appeared,  no  such  exhaustless 
quality  in  their  liquor ;  and  that  failing  at  last,  the  uproar 
began  gradually  to  decrease,  although  it  was  not  until 
within  an  hour  of  midnight  that  Bloody  Nathan  declared 
the  moment  had  arrived  for  entering  the  village. 

He  then  rose  from  his  lair,  and  repeating  his  injunc- 
tions to  Roland  to  remain  where  he  was,  until  the  issue  of 
his  own  visit  should  be  known,  added  a  word  of  parting 
counsel,  which,  to  Roland's  imagination,  bore  somewhat 
an  ominous  character. 

"The  thing  that  is  to  come,"  he  said,  "neither  thee  nor 
me  knows  any  thing  about;  for,  truly,  an  Indian  village  is 
a  war-trap,  which  one  may  sometimes  creep  into  easy 
enough ;  but,  truly,  the  getting  out  again  is  another  matter. 
And  so,  friend,  if  it  should  be  my  luck,  and  friend  Ralph's, 
to  be  killed  or  captivated,  so  that  we  cannot  return  to  thee 
again,  do  thee  move  by  the  first  blink  of  day,  and  do  thee 
best  to  save  thee  own  life;  and,  truly,  I  have  some  hope 
thee  may  succeed,  seeing  that,  if  I  should  fall,  little  Peter 
(which  I  will  leave  with  thee,  for  truly  he  would  but  en- 
cumber me  among  the  dogs  of  the  village,  having  better 
skill  to  avoid  murdering  Injuns  than  the  creatures  of  his 
own  kind),  will  make  thee  his  master, — as,  verily,  he  can 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

no  longer  serve  a  dead  one,  and  show  thee  the  way  back 
again  from  the  wilderness.  Truly,  friend,  he  hath  an  af- 
fection for  thee,  for  thee  has  used  him  well ;  which  he  can 
say  of  no  other  person,  save  only  thee  and  me  excepted." 

With  that,  having  laid  aside  his  gun,  which,  as  he  repre- 
sented, could  be  in  such  an  undertaking  of  no  service,  and 
directed  Stackpole  to  do  the  same,  he  shook  Eoland  by  the 
hand,  and,  waiting  an  instant  till  Ealph  had  followed  his 
example,  and  added  his  farewell  in  the  brief  phrase, — 
"Sodger,  Fm  atter  my  mistress;  and,  for  all  Bloody  Na- 
than's small-talk  about  massacree  and  captivation,  we'll 
fetch  her,  with  a  most  beautiful  lot  of  bosses ;  so  thar's  no 
fawwell  about  it," — turned  to  little  Peter,  whom  he  ad- 
dressed quite  as  gravely  as  he  had  done  the  Virginian: 
"Now,  little  dog  Peter,"  said  he,  "I  leave  thee  to  take  care 
of  theeself  and  the  young  man  that  is  with  thee;  and  do 
thee  be  good  and  faithful,  and  obedient,  as  thee  always  has 
been,  and  have  a  good  care  thee  keeps  out  of  mischief." 

With  these  words,  which  Peter  doubtless  perfectly  under- 
stood, for  he  squatted  himself  down  on  the  ground,  with- 
out any  attempt  to  follow  his  master,  Nathan  departed, 
with  Koaring  Ralph  at  his  side,  leaving  Roland  to  mutter 
his  anxieties  and  fears,  his  doubts  and  impatience,  into  the 
eat-g  of  the  least  presuming  of  counsellors. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

Having  flown  over  many  knavish  professions,  he  settled  only 
in  rogue.  — Winter's  Tale. 

THE  night  was  brilliantly  clear,  the  stars  shining  with 
an  excess  of  lustre,  with  which  Nathan  would  perhaps,  at 
that  moment,  have  gladly  dispensed,  since  it  was  by  no 
means  favorable  to  the  achievement  he  was  now  so  daringly 
attempting.  Fortunately,  however,  the  Indian  village  lay, 
for  the  most  part,  in  the  shadow  of  the  hill,  itself  covered 


280  $ICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 


with  majestic  maples  and  tulip-trees,  that  rose  in  dark 
and  solemn  masses  above  it,  and  thus  offered  the  conceal- 
ment denied  in  the  more  open  parts  of  the  valley.  With 
Ealph  still  at  his  side,  he  crept  round  the  projecting  corner 
of  the  hill,  and,  shrouded  in  its  gloom,  drew  nigh  the  vil- 
lage, wherein  might  be  still  occasionally  heard  the  halloo 
of  a  drunken  savage,  followed  by  an  uproarious  chorus  of 
barking  and  howling  curs. 

Whether  it  was  that  these  sounds,  or  some  gloomy  fore- 
bodings of  his  own,  awoke  the  anxieties  of  Nathan,  he  did 
not  deign  to  reveal;  but  by  and  by,  having  arrived  within 
but  a  few  paces  of  a  wretched  pile  of  skins  and  boughs,  the 
dwelling  of  some  equally  wretched  and  improvident  bar- 
barian, he  came  to  a  sudden  halt,  and  withdrawing  the  cap- 
tain of  horse-thieves  aside  from  the  path,  addressed  him  in 
the  following  terms:  — 

"Thee  says,  friend,  thee  has  taken  horses  from  this  very 
Village,  and  that  thee  knows  it  well?" 

"As  well,"  replied  Ralph,  "as  I  know  the  stepmothers 
on  my  own  thumbs  and  fingers  —  I  do,  'tarnal  death  to  me  — 
that  is  to  say,  all  the  parts  injacent  and  outjacent,  circum- 
surrounding  the  hoss-stamp;  for  thar's  the  place  of  my 
visiting.  The  way  to  fetch  it,  old  Bloody,  is  jist  to  fetch 
round  this  h'yar  old  skin-pot,  whar  thar's  a  whole  bee's- 
nest  of  young  papooses  the  size  of  bull-toads  —  from  that, 
up  (I  know  it,  'cause  how  I  heerd  'em  squallin';  and  thar 
war  some  one  a  lickin'  'em)  ;  or,  if  you  don't  favor  taking 
it  so  close  to  the  skirmudgeons,  then  you  must  claw  up  the 
knob  h'yar,  and  then  take  and  take  the  shoot,  till  you  fetch 
right  among  the  bosses,  whar  you  h'ar  them  whinnying 
down  the  holler  ;  and  thar  -  " 

"Friend,"  said  Nathan,  cutting  him  short,  "it  is  on  thee 
doings,  more  than  on  them  of  any  others,  that  the  hopes 
of  the  maid  Edith  -  " 

"Call  her  anngelliferous  madam,"  said  Ealph,  "for  I 
can't  stand  any  feller  being  familiar  with  her  —  I  can't,  no 
how." 

"Well,  friend/'  said  Nathan,  "it  is  on  thee  doings  that 


NICK:  OF  THE  WOODS. 

her  escaping  the  Shawnee  villains  this  night  depends.  If 
thee  does  well,  it  may  be  we  shall  both  discover  and  carry 
her  safe  away  from  captivation;  if  thee  acts  as  a  foolish, 
imprudent  man — and  truly,  friend,  I  have  my  fears  of 
thee — thee  will  both  fail  to  help  her  theeself,  and  prevent 
others  doing  it,  who,  it  may  be,  has  the  power." 

"Old  Bloody,"  said  the  captain  of  horse-thieves,  with 
something  like  a  gulp  of  emotion,  "you  arn't  respectable  to 
a  feller's  feelings.  But  I  will  stand  anything  from  you, 
'cause  how,  you  down'd  my  house  in  a  fa'r  tusle,  and  you 
holped  the  captain  thar  that  helped  me  out  of  trouble.  If 
you're  atter  ginning  me  a  bit  of  wisdom,  and  all  on 
madam's  account,  I'm  jist  the  gentleman  that  h'ars  you. 
State  the  case,  and  h'yar  stands  I  confawmable." 

"Well,  friend,"  said  Nathan,  "what  I  have  to  advise  thee 
is,  that  thee  stops  where  thee  is,  leaving  the  rest  of  this 
matter  entirely  to  me;  seeing  that,  as  thee  knows  nothing 
of  this  Injun  village,  excepting  the  horse-pound  thereof* 
it  will  not  be  safe  for  thee  to  enter.  Do  thee  rest  where 
thee  is,  and  I  will  spy  out  the  place  of  the  maiden's  con- 
cealing." 

"Old  fellow,"  said  Captain  Ralph,  "you  won't  pretend 
you  knows  more  of  the  place  than  me  ?  You  don't  go  for 
to  say  you  ever  stole  a  hoss  here?" 

"Do  thee  be  content,  friend,"  said  Nathan,  "to  know 
there  is  not  a  cabin  in  all  the  village  that  is  unbeknown  to 
me ;  do  thee  be  content  with  that.  Thee  must  not  go  near 
the  pound,  until  thee  knows  for  certain  the  maid  thee  calls 
madam  can  be  saved.  Truly,  friend,  it  may  be  we  canned 
help  her  to-night,  but  may  do  so  to-morrow  night." 

"I  see  what  you're  up  to,"  said  Ralph;  "and  thar's  no 
denying  it  war  a  natteral  piece  of  nonsense  to  steal  a  hoss 
afo'  madam  war  ready  to  ride  him.  And  so,  old  Nathan, 
if  it  ar>  your  qualified  opinion  I'll  sarve  madam  better  by 
snuggin'  under  a  log,  than  by  snuffin'  atter  her  among  the 
cabins,  I'm  jist  the  gentleman  to  knock  under,  accordin' 
to  reason." 

This  declaration  seemed  greatly  to  relieve  the  uneasi- 


282  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

ness  of  Nathan,  who,  recommending  him  to  be  as  good  as 
his  word,  and  ensconce  among  some  logs  lying  near  the 
path,  awaiting  the  event  of  his  own  visit  to  the  heart  of  the 
village,  immediately  took  his  leave;  though  not  with  the 
timid  and  skulking  step  of  a  spy.  Wrapping  his  blanket 
about  his  shoulders,  and  assuming  the  gait  of  a  savage, 
he  stalked  boldly  forwards;  jingling  under  his  mantle 
the  bundle  of  hawk-bells  which  he  carried  in  his  hand, 
as  if  actually  to  invite  the  observation  of  such  barbarians 
as  were  yet  moving  through  the  village. 

But  this  stretch  of  audacity,  as  the  listening  horse-thief 
was  at  first  inclined  to  esteem  it,  was  soon  seen  to  have  been 
adopted  with  a  wise  foreknowledge  of  its  effects  in  remov> 
ing  one  of  the  first  and  greatest  difficulties  in  the  wan- 
derer's way.  At  the  first  cabin  was  a  troop  of  yelling 
curs,  that  seemed  somewhat  disturbed  by  the  stranger's 
approach,  and  disposed  to  contest  his  right  of  passing  scot 
free;  but  a  jerk  of  the  bells  settled  the  difficulty  in  a  mo- 
ment, and  the  animals,  mute  and  crest-fallen,  slunk  hastily 
away,  as  if  expecting  the  crash  of  a  tomahawk  about  their 
ears,  in  the  usual  summary  Indian  way,  to  punish  their 
presumption  in  baying  a  warrior. 

"A  right-down  natteral,  fine  conceit!"  muttered  Cap- 
tain Ralph,  approvingly ;  "the  next  time  I  come  a-grabbin' 
hosses,  if  I  don't  fetch  a  bushel  of  the  jinglers  I  wish  I 
may  be  kicked!  Them  thar  Injun  dogs  is  always  the 
devil/' 

In  the  meanwhile,  Nathan,  though  proceeding  with  such 
apparent  boldness,  and  relying  upon  his  disguise  as  all- 
sufficient  to  avert  suspicion,  was  by  no  means  inclined  to 
court  any  such  dangers  as  could  be  really  avoided.  If  the 
light  of  a  fire,  still  burning  in  a  wigwam,  and  watched  by 
wakeful  habitants,  shone  too  brightly  from  its  door,  he 
crept  by  with  the  greatest  circumspection,  and  he  gave  as 
wide  a  berth  as  possible  to  every  noisy  straggler  who  yet 
roamed  through  the  village. 

There  was  indeed  necessity  for  every  precaution.  It 
was  evident  that  the  village  was  by  no  means  so  destitute 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  283 

of  defence  as  he  had  imagined — that  the  warriors  of  We- 
nonga  had  not  generally  obeyed  the  call  that  carried  the 
army  of  the  tribes  to  Kentucky,  but  had  remained  in  in- 
glorious ease  and  sloth  in  their  own  cabins.  There  was 
no  other  way,  at  least,  of  accounting  for  the  dozen  or  more 
male  vagabonds  whom  he  found  at  intervals  stretched  here 
before  a  fire,  where  they  had  been  carousing  in  the  open 
i'lir,  and  there  lying  asleep  across  the  path,  just  where  the 
demon  of  good  cheer  had  dropped  them. 

Making  his  own  inferences  from  their  appearance,  and 
passing  them  with  care,  sometimes  even,  where  their  slum- 
bers seemed  unsound,  crawling  by  on  his  face,  he  suc- 
ceeded at  last  in  reaching  the  central  part  of  the  village, 
where  the  presence  of  several  cabins  of  logs,  humble 
enough  in  themselves,  but  far  superior  to  the  ordinary 
hovels  of  an  Indian  village,  indicated  the  abiding  place  of 
the  superiors  of  the  clan,  or  of  those  apostate  white  men, 
renegades  from  the  states,  traitors  to  their  country  and  to 
civilization,  who  were  at  that  day,  in  so  many  instances, 
found  uniting  their  fortunes  with  the  Indians,  following, 
and  even  leading  them,  in  their  bloody  incursions  upon  the 
frontiers. 

To  one  of  those  cabins  Nathan  made  his  way  with 
stealthy  step;  and  peeping  through  a  chink  in  the  logs, 
beheld  a  proof  that  here  a  renegade  had  cast  his  lot,  in 
the  appearance  of  some  half-a-dozen  naked  children,  of 
fairer  hue  than  the  savages,  yet  not  so  pale  as  those  of  his 
own  race,  sleeping  on  mats  round  a  fire,  at  which  sat, 
nodding  and  dozing,  the  dark-eyed  Indian  mother. 

One  brief,  earnest  look  Nathan  gave  to  this  spectacle; 
then  stealing  away,  he  bent  his  steps  towards  a  neighboring 
cabin,  which  he  approached  with  even  greater  precautions 
than  before.  This  was  a  hovel  of  logs,  like  the  other,  but 
of  still  better  construction,  having  the  uncommon  con- 
venience of  a  chimney  built  of  sticks  and  mud,  through 
whose  low  wide  top  ascended  volumes  of  smoke,  made  ruddy 
by  the  glare  of  the  flames  below.  A  cranny  here  also  afforded 
the  means  of  spying  into  the  doings  within;  arid  Nathan, 


284  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

who  approached  it  with  the  precision  of  one  not  unfamiliar 
with  the  premises,  was  not  tardy  to  avail  himself  of  its 
advantages.  Bare  naked  walls  of  logs,  the  interstices 
rudely  stuffed  with  moss  and  clay — a  few  uncouth  wooden 
stools — a  rough  table — a  bed  of  skins, — and  implements  of 
war  and  the  chase,  hung  in  various  places  about  the  room, 
all  illuminated  more  brilliantly  by  the  fire  on  the  hearth 
than  by  the  miserable  tallow  candle,  stuck  on  a  lamp  of 
humid  clay,  that  glimmered  on  the  table,  were  not  the 
only  objects  to  attract  the  wanderer's  eye.  Sitting  by  the 
fire  were  two  men,  both  white;  though  the  blanket  and 
calico  shirt  of  one,  and  the  red  shawl  which  he  was  jus! 
in  the  act  of  removing  from  his  brows  as  Nathan  peeped 
through  the  chink,  with  an  uncommon  darkness  of  skin 
and  hair,  might  have  well  made  him  pass  IOT  an  Indian. 
His  figure  was  very  tall,  well  proportioned,  and  athletic; 
his  visage  manly,  and  even  handsome,  though  the  wrinkles 
of  forty  winters  furrowed  deeply  in  his  brows,  and  perhaps 
a  certain  repelling  gleam,  the  light  of  smothered  passions, 
shining  from  the  eyes  below,  might  have  left  that  merit 
questionable  with  the  beholder. 

The  other  was  a  smaller  man,  whom  Roland,  had  he  been 
present,  would  have  recognized  as  the  supposed  half-breed, 
who,  at  the  partition  of  spoils,  after  the  capture  of  his 
party  and  the  defeat  of  the  young  Kentuckians,  had  given 
him  a  prisoner  into  the  hands  of  the  three  Piankeshaws — 
in  a  word,  the  renegade  father  of  Telie  Doe.  Nor  was  his 
companion  less  familiar  to  Nathan,  who  beheld  in  his 
sombre  countenance  the  features  of  that  identical  stranger, 
seen  with  Doe  at  the  fire  among  the  assailants  at  the  mem- 
orable ruin,  whose  appearance  had  awakened  the  first  sus- 
picion that  there  was  more  in  the  attack  than  proceeded 
from  ordinary  causes. 

This  was  a  discovery  well  fitted  to  increase  the  interest, 
and  sharpen  the  curiosity  of  the  man  of  peace,  who,  peer- 
ing in  upon  the  pair  from  the  chink,  gave  all  his  faculties 
to  the  duty  of  listening  and  observing.  The  visage  of 
Doe,  dark  and  sullen  at  the  best,  was  now  peculiarly  moody ; 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

and  he  sat  gazing  into  the  fire,,  apparently  regardless  of 
his  companion,  who,  as  he  drew  the  shawl  from  his  head, 
and  threw  it  aside,  muttered  something  in  Doe's  ears,  but 
in  a  voice  too  low  for  Nathan  to  distinguish  what  he  said. 
The  whisper  was  repeated  once  and  again,  but  without 
seeming  to  produce  any  impression  upon  Doe's  ears;  at 
which  the  other  growing  impatient,  gave,  to  Nathan's  great 
satisfaction,  a  louder  voice  to  his  discourse: — 

"Hark  you,  Jack — Atkinson — Doe — Shanogenaw — Rat- 
tlesnake— or  whatever  you  may  be  pleased  to  call  yourself," 
he  cried,  striking  the  muser  on  the  shoulder,  "are  you  mad, 
drunk  or  asleep  ?  Get  up,  man,  and  tell  me,  since  you  will 
tell  me  nothing  else,  what  the  devil  you  are  dreaming 
about?" 

"Why,  curse  it,"  said  the  other,  starting  up  somewhat 
in  anger,  but  draining,  before  he  spoke,  a  deep  draught 
from  an  earthen  pitcher  that  stood  on  the  table — "I  was 
thinking,  if  you  must  know,  about  the  j^oungster,  and  the 
dog's  death  we  have  driven  him  to — Christian  work  for 
Christian  men,  eh!" 

"The  fate  of  war !"  exclaimed  the  renegade's  companion, 
with  great  composure;  "we  have  won  the  battle,  boy — the 
defeated  must  bear  the  consequences." 

"Ondoubtedly,"  said  Doe — "up  to  the  rack,  fodder  or 
no  fodder;  that's  the  word;  there's  no  'scaping  them  con- 
sequences, them  must  be  taken  as  they  come — gantelope, 
fire-roasting,  and  all.  But,  I  say,  Dick — saving  your 
pardon  for  being  familiar,"  he  added,  "there's  the  small 
matter  to  be  thought  on  in  the  case, — and  that  is,  it  was 
not  Injuns,  but  rale  right  down  Christian  men  that  brought 
the  younker  to  the  tug.  It's  a  bad  business  for  white  men, 
and  it  makes  me  feel  oncomfortable." 

"Pooh,"  said  the  other,  with  an  air  of  contemptuous  com- 
miseration, "you  are  growing  sentimental.  This  comes  of 
listening  to  that  confounded  whimpering  Telie." 

"No  words  agin  the  gal !"  cried  Doe,  sternly ;  "you  may 
say  what  you  like  of  me,  for  I'm  a  rascal  that  desarves  it ; 
but  I'll  stand  no  barking  agin  the  gal," 


2-86  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"Why,  she's  a  good  girl  and  a  pretty  girl — too  good  and 
too  pretty  to  have  so  crusty  a  father — and  I  have  nothing 
against  her,  but  her  taking  on  so  about  the  younker,  and  so 
playing  the  devil  with  the  wits  and  good  looks  of  my  own 
bargain." 

"A  dear  bargain  she  is  like  to  prove  to  all  of  us/'  said 
Doe,  drowning  his  anger  or  remorse  in  another  draught 
from  the  pitcher.  "She  has  cost  us  eleven  men  already; 
it  is  well  the  bulk  of  the  whelps  was  Wabash  and  Maumee 
dogs,  or  you  would  have  seen  her  killed  and  scalped,  for 
all  of  your  guns  and  whiskey — you  would,  there's  no  two 
ways  about  it.  Howsomever,  four  of  'em  was  dogs  of  our 
own,  and  two  of  them  was  picked  off  by  the  Jibbenainosay. 
I  tell  you  what,  Dick,  I'm  not  the  man  to  skear  at  a  raw- 
head-and-bloody-bones,  but  I  do  think  the  coming  of  this 
here  cursed  Jibbenainosay  among  us,  just  as  we  was  nab- 
bing the  gal  and  the  sodger,  was  as  much  as  to  say  there 
was  no  good  could  come  of  it;  and  so  the  Injuns  thought 
too — you  saw  how  hard  it  was  to  bring  'em  up  to  the 
scratch,  when  they  found  he  had  been  knifing  a  fellow 
right  among  'em !  I  do  believe  the  crittur's  Old  Nick 
himself !" 

"So  don't  I,"  said  the  other;  "for  it  is  quite  unnatural 
to  suppose  the  devil  would  ever  take  part  against  his  own 
children." 

"Perhaps,"  said  Doe,  "you  don't  believe  in  the  crittur." 

"Good  Jack,  honest  Jack,"  replied  his  companion,  "I 
am  no  such  ass." 

"Them  that  don't  believe  in  hell,  will  natterly  go  agin 
the  devil,"  muttered  the  renegade,  with  strong  signs  of 
disapprobation;  and  then  added,  earnestly — "look  you, 
squire,  you're  a  man  that  knows  more  of  things  than  me, 
and  the  likes  of  me.  You  saw  that  'ere  Injun  dead  in 
the  woods  under  the  tree,  where  the  five  scouters  had  left 
him  a  living  man  ?" 

"Ay,"  said  the  man  of  the  turban;  "but  he  had  been 
wounded  by  the  horsemen  you  so  madly  suffered  to  pass 
the  oinbush  at  the  fordt,  and  was  obliged  to  stop  from  loss 


KICK   OF    THE    WOODS. 

of  blood  and  faintness.  What  so  natural  as  to  suppose 
the  younker  fell  upon  him  (we  saw  the  tracks  of  the  whole 
party  where  the  body  lay)  and  slashed  him  in  your  devil's 
style,  to  take  advantage  of  the  superstitious  fears  of  the 
Indians !" 

"There's  nothing  like  being  a  lawyer,  sartain !"  grumbled 
Doe ;  "but  the  warrior  right  among  us,  there,  at  the  ruin  ? 
— you  seed  him  yourself — marked  right  in  the  thick  of  us ! 
I  reckon  you  won't  say  the  sodger,  that  we  had  there 
trapped  up  fast  in  the  cabin,  put  the  cross  on  that  Injun 
too?" 

"Nothing  more  likely,"  said  the  sceptic, — "a  stratagem 
a  bold  man  might  easily  execute  in  the  dark." 

"Well,  squire,"  said  Doe,  waxing  impatient,  "you  may 
jist  as  well  work  it  out  according  to  law  that  this  same 
sodger  younker,  that  never  seed  Kentucky  afore  in  his  life, 
has  been  butchering  Shawnees  there,  ay,  and  in  this  d — d 
town  too,  for  ten  years  agone.  Ay,  Dick,  it's  true,  jist  as 
I  tell  you;  there  has  been  a  dozen  or  more  Injun  warriors 
struck  and  scalped  in  our  very  wigwams  here,  in  the  dead 
of  the  night,  and  nothing,  in  the  morning,  but  the  mark  of 
the  Jibbenainosay  to  tell  who  was  the  butcher.  There's 
not  a  cussed  warrior  of  them  all  that  doesn't  go  to  his 
bed  at  night  in  fear;  for  none  knows  when  the  Jibbe- 
nainosay,— the  Howl  of  the  Shawnees, — may  be  upon  him. 
You  must  know,  there  was  some  bloody  piece  of  business 
done  in  times  past  (Injuns  is  the  boys  for  them  things)  — 
the  murdering  of  a  knot  of  innocent  people — by  some  of 
the  tribe,  with  the  old  villain  Wenonga  at  the  head  of  'em. 
Ever  since  that,  the  Jibbenainosay  has  been  murdering 
among  them;  and  they  hold  that  it's  a  judgment  on  the 
tribe,  as  ondoubtedly  it  is.  And  now,  you  see,  that's  jist 
the  reason  why  the  old  chief  has  turned  such  a  vagabond ; 
for  the  tribe  is  rifled  at  him,  because  of  his  bringing  such 
a  devil  on  them,  and  they  won't  follow  him  to  battle  no 
more,  except  some  sich  riff-raff,  vagabond  rascals  as  them 
we  picked  up,  for  this  here  rascality,  no  how.  And  so,  you 
see,  it  has  a  sort  of  set  the  old  feller  mad;  he  thinks  of 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

nothing  but  the  Jibbenainosay — (that  is,  when  he's  sober; 
though,  cuss  him,  I  believe  it's  all  one  when  he's  drunk, 
too) — of  hunting  him  up  and  killing  him;  for  he's  jist  a 
feller  to  fight  the  devil,  there's  no  two  ways  about  it.  It 
was  because  I  told  him  we  was  going  to  the  woods  on  Salt, 
where  the  crittur  abounds,  and  where  he  might  get  wind 
of  him,  that  he  smashed  his  rum-keg,  and  agreed  to  go  with 
us/' 

"Well,  well,"  said  Doe's  associate,  "this  is  idle  talk.  We 
have  won  the  victory,  and  must  enjoy  it.  I  must  see  the 
prize." 

"What  good  can  come  of  it?"  demanded  Doe,  moodily: 
"the  gal's  half  dead,  and  whole  crazy, — or  so  Telie  says. 
And  as  for  your  gitting  any  good  will  out  of  her,  cuss  me 
if  I  believe  it.  And 'Telie  says " 

"That  Telie  will  spoil  all !  I  told  you  to  keep  the  girl 
away  from  her." 

"Well,  and  didn't  I  act  accordin'  ?  I  told  her  I'd  mur- 
der her  if  she  went  near  her  again— a  full-blooded,  rale- 
grit  rascal  to  talk  so  to  my  own  daughter,  ain't  I?  But 
I  should  like  to  know  where's  the  good  of  keeping  the  girl 
from  her  since  it's  all  she  has  for  comfort  ?" 

"And  that  is  the  very  reason  she  must  be  kept  away," 
said  the  stranger,  with  a  look  malignly  expressive  of  self- 
approving  cunning,  "there  must  be  no  hope,  no  thought  of 
security,  no  consciousness  of  sympathy,  to  make  me  more 
trouble  than  I  have  had  already.  She  must  know  where 
she  is,  and  what  she  is,  a  prisoner  among  wild  savages ;  a 
little  fright,  a  little  despair,  and  the  work  is  over.  You 
understand  me,  eh?  There  is  a  way  of  bringing  the  devil 
himself  to  terms;  and  as  for  a  woman,  she  is  not  much 
more  unmanageable.  One  week  of  terrors,  real  and  imag- 
ined, does  the  work;  and  then,  my  jolly  Jack,  you  have 
won  your  wages." 

"And  I  have  desarved  'em,"  said  Doe,  striking  his  fist 
upon  the  table  with  violence ;  "for  I  have  made  myself  jist 

the  d dest  rascal  that  was  ever  made  of  a  white  man. 

Lying,  and  cheating,  and  perjuring,  and  murdering — it's 


KICK   OF   THE    WOODS.  289 

nothing  better  nor  murder,  that  giving  up  the  younker,  that 
never  did  harm  to  me  or  mine,  to  the  Piankeshaws — for 
they'll  burn  him,  they  will,  d — n  'em !  there's  no  two  ways 
about  it. — There's  what  I've  done  for  you ;  and  if  you  were 
to  give  me  half  the  plunder,  I  reckon  'twould  do  no  more 
than  indamnify  me  for  my  rascality.  And  so  here's  the 
end  on't ; — you've  made  me  a  rascal,  and  you  shall  pay  for 
it." 

"It  is  the  only  thing  the  world  ever  does  pay  for,"  said 
the  stranger,  with  edifying  coolness,  "and  so  don't  be 
afflicted.  To  be  a  rascal  is  to  be  a  man  of  sense, — pro- 
vided you  are  a  rascal  in  a  sensible  way, — that  is,  a  profit- 
able one." 

"Ay,"  said  Doe,  "that  is  the  doctrine  you  have  been 
preaching  ever  since  I  knowed  you ;  and  you  have  made  a 
fortun'  by  it.  But  as  for  me,  though  I've  toed  the  track 
after  your  own  leading,  I'm  jist  as  poor  as  ever,  and  ten 
times  more  despisable, — I  am,  d — n  me;  for  I'm  a  white 
Injun,  and  there's  nothing  more  despisable.  But  here's 
the  case,"  he  a.dded,  working  himself  into  a  rage, — "I 
won't  be  a  rascal  for  nothing, — I'm  sworn  to  it ;  and  this  is 
a  job  you  must  pay  for  to  the  full  vally,  or  you're  none 
the  better  on  it." 

"It  will  make  your  fortune,"  said  his  companion  in 
iniquity;  "there  was  bad  luck  about  us  before;  but  all  is 
now  safe — the  girl  will  make  us  secure." 

"I  don't  see  into  it  a  bit,"  said  Doe,  morosely;  "you 
were  secure  enough  without  her.  The  story  of  the  other 
gal  you  know  of  gave  you  the  grab  on  the  lands  and 
vall'ables ;  and  I  don't  see  what's  the  good  to  come  of  this 
here  other  one,  no  how." 

"Then  have  you  less  brains,  my  jolly  Jack,  than  I  have 
given  you  credit  for,"  said  the  other.  "The  story  you 
speak  of  is  somewhat  too  flimsy  to  serve  us  long.  We 
must  have  a  better  claim  to  the  lands  than  can  come  of 
possession  in  trust  for  an  heir,  not  to  be  produced  till  we 
can  find  the  way  to  Abraham's  bosom.  We  have  now  ob- 
tained it;  the  younker,  thanks  to  your  Piankeshaw  cut- 


290  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

throats,  is  on  the  path  to  Paradise;  the  girl  is  left  alone, 
sole  claimant,  and  heiress  at  law.  In  a  word,  Jack,  I 
design  to  marry  her; — ay,  faith,  will-she  nill-she,  I  will 
marry  her;  and  thereby,  besides  gratifying  certain  private 
whims  and  humors  not  worth  mentioning,  I  will  put  the 
last  finish  to  the  scheme,  and  step  into  the  estate  with  a 
clear  conscience."  f 

"But  the  will,  the  cussed  old  will?"  cried  Doe.  "You've 
got  up  a  cry  about  it,  and  there's  them  that  won't  let  it 
drop  so  easy.  What's  an  heir  at  law  agin  a  will !  You 
take  the  gal  back,  and  the  cry  is,  'Where's  the  true  gal, 
the  major's  daughter?'  I  reckon,  you'll  find  you've  jist 
got  yourself  into  a  trap  of  your  own  making !" 

"In  that  case,"  said  the  stranger,  with  a  grin,  "we  must 
e'en  act  like  honest  men,  and  find  (after  much  hunting 
and  rummaging,  mind  you  ! )  the  major's  last  will." 

"But  you  burned  it!"  exclaimed  Doe;  "you  told  me  so 
yourself." 

"I  told  you  so,  Jack;  but  that  was  a  little  bit  of  inno- 
cent deception,  to  make  you  easy.  I  told  you  so,  but  I 
kept  it,  to  guard  against  deception ;  and  here  it  is,"  added 
the  speaker,  drawing  from  amid  the  folds  of  his  blankets  a 
roll  of  parchment,  which  he  proceeded  very  deliberately  to 
spread  upon  the  table.  "The  very  difficulty  you  mention 
occurred  to  me;  I  saw  it  would  not  do  to  raise  the  devil 
without  retaining  the  power  to  lay  him.  Here,  then,  is  the 
will  that  settles  the  affair  to  your  liking.  The  girl  and  the 
younker  are  co-heirs  together;  but  the  latter  dying  intes- 
tate, you  understand,  the  whole  falls  into  the  lap  of  the, 
former.  Are  you  easy  now,  honest  Jack  ?  Will  this  satisfy 
you  all  is  safe?" 

"It's  jist  the  thing  to  an  iota,"  ejaculated  Doe,  in  whom 
the  sight  of  the  parchment  seemed  to  awaken  cupidity  and 
exultation  together;  "there's  no  standing  agin  it  in  any 
court  in  Virginnee !" 

"Eight,  my  boy,"  said  his  associate.  "But  where  is  the 
girl?  I  must  see  her." 

"In  the  cabin  with  Wenonga's  squaw,  right  over  agin 


NICK   OF   THE    WOODS.  291 

the  Council-house/'  replied  Doe,  adding,  with  animation, 
"but  I'm  agin  your  going  nigh  her  till  we  settle  up  accounts 
jist  as  honestly  as  any  two  sich  d — d  rascals  can.  I  say, 
by  G — ,  I  must  know  how  the  book  stands,  and  how  I'm 
to  finger  the  snacks ;  for  snacks  is  the  word,  or  the  bargain's 
no  go." 

"Well,  we  can  talk  of  this  on  the  morrow." 

"To-night's  the  time,"  said  Doe;  "there's  nothing  like 
having  an  honest  understanding  of  matters  aforehand.  I'm 
not  going  to  be  cheated — not  meaning  no  offence  in  saying 
so;  and  I've  jist  made  up  my  mind  to  keep  the  gal  out  of 
your  way  till  we've  settled  things  to  our  liking." 

"Spoken  like  a  sensible  rogue,"  said  the  stranger,  with  a 
voice  of  all  frankness  and  approval,  but  with  a  lowering 
look  of  impatience  which  Nathan,  who  had  watched  the 
proceedings  of  the  pair  with  equal  amazement  and  interest, 
could  observe  from  the  chink,  though  it  was  concealed  from 
Doe  by  the  position  of  the  speaker,  who  had  risen  from  his 
stool,  as  if  to  depart,  but  who  now  sat  down  again,  to 
satisfy  the  fears  of  his  partner  in  villainy.  To  this  he 
immediately  addressed  himself,  but  in  tones  lower  than 
before,  so  that  Nathan  could  no  longer  distinguish  his 
words. 

But  Nathan  had  heard  enough.  The  conversation,  as 
far  as  he  had  distinguished  it,  chimed  strangely  in  with 
all  his  own  and  Eoland's  suspicions;  there  was,  indeed, 
not  a  word  uttered  that  did  not  confirm  them.  The  con- 
fessions of  the  stranger,  vague  and  mysterious  as  they 
seemed,  tallied  in  all  respects  with  Eoland's  account  of, 
the  villainous  designs  imputed  to  the  hated  Braxley;  and1 
it  was  no  little  additional  proof  of  his  identity  that,  in 
addressing  Doe,  whom  he  styled  throughout  as  Jack,  he  had, 
once  at  least,  called  him  by  the  name  of  Atkinson — a  refu- 
gee whose  connection  with  the  conspiracy  in  Roland's 
story  Nathan  had  not  forgotten.  It  was  not,  indeed,  sur- 
prising that  Abel  Doe  should  possess  another  name,  since 
it  was  a  common  practice  among  renegades  like  himself, 
from  some  sentiment  of  shame  or  other  obvious  reasons,  to 


292  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

assume  an  alias  and  nom  de  guerre,  under  which  they  ac- 
quired their  notoriety ;  the  only  wonder  was,  that  he  should 
prove  to  be  that  person  whose  agency  in  the  abduction  of 
Edith  would,  of  all  other  men  in  the  world,  go  furthest 
to  sustain  the  belief  of  Braxley  being  the  principal  con- 
triver of  the  outrage. 

Such  thoughts  as  these  may  have  wandered  through  Na- 
than's mind,  but  he  took  little  time  to  con  them  over.  He 
had  made  a  discovery  at  that  moment  of  more  stirring  im- 
portance and  interest.  Allowing  that  Edith  Forrester  was 
the  prisoner  of  whom  the  disguised  stranger  and  his  sordid 
confederate  spoke,  and  there  was  little  reason  to  doubt  it, 
he  had  learned,  out  of  their  own  mouths,  the  place  of  her 
concealment,  to  discover  which  was  the  object  of  his  daring 
visit  to  the  village.  Her  prison-house  was  the  wigwam  of 
Wenonga,  the  chief,  if  chief  he  could  still  be  called,  whom 
the  displeasure  of  his  tribe  had  robbed  of  almost  every 
vestige  of  authority ;  and  thither  Nathan,  to  whom  the  vile 
bargaining  of  the  white  men  no  longer  offered  interest, 
supposing  he  could  even  have  overheard  it,  instantly  de- 
termined to  make  his  way. 

But  how  was  Nathan  to  know  the  cabin  of  the  chief 
from  the  dozen  other  hovels  that  surrounded  the  Council- 
house?  That  was  a  question  which  perhaps  Nathan  did 
not  ask  himself;  for,  creeping  softly  from  Doe's  hut,  and 
turning  into  the  street  (if  such  could  be  called  the  irregular 
winding  space  that  separated  the  two  lines  of  cabins  com- 
posing the  village),  he  stole  forward,  with  nothing  of  the 
hesitation  or  doubt  which  might  have  been  expected  from 
one  unfamiliar  with  the  village. 


NICK   OP   THE   WOODS.  293 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

My  brain,  more  busy  than  the  laboring  spider, 
Weaves  tedious   snares  to  trap  mine  enemies. 

— Henry    VI. 

WHILE  Nathan  lay  watching  at  the  renegade's  hut, 
there  came  a  change  over  the  aspect  of  the  night  little  less 
favorable  to  his  plans  and  hopes  than  even  the  discovery 
of  Edith's  place  of  concealment  which  he  had  so  fortunately 
made.  The  sky  became  suddenly  overcast  with  clouds, 
and  deep  darkness  invested  the  Indian  village;  while 
gusts  of  wind,  sweeping  with  a  moaning  sound  over  the 
adjacent  hills,  and  waking  the  forests  from  their  repose, 
came  rushing  over  the  village,  whirring  and  fluttering 
aloft  like  flights  of  the  boding  night  raven,  or  the  more 
powerful  bird  of  prey  that  had  given  its  name  to  the  chief- 
tain of  the  tribe. 

In  such  darkness,  and  with  the  murmur  of  the  blasts 
and  the  rustling  of  boughs  to  drown  the  noise  of  his  foot- 
steps, Nathan  no  longer  feared  to  pursue  his  way,  and, 
rising  boldly  to  his  feet,  drawing  his  blanket  close  around 
him,  and  assuming,  as  before,  the  gait  of  a  savage,  he 
strode  forwards,  and,  in  less  than  a  minute,  was  upon  the 
public  square — if  such  we  may  call  it — the  vacant  area  in 
the  centre  of  the  village,  where  stood  the  rude  shed  of  bark 
and  boughs,  supported  by  a  circular  range  of  posts,  all 
open,  except  at  top,  to  the  weather,  which  custom  had 
dignified  with  the  title  of  Council-house. 

The  bounds  of  the  square  were  marked  by  clusters  of 
cabins  placed  with  happy  contempt  of  order  and  symmetry, 
and  by  trees  and  bushes  that  grew  among  and  behind  them, 
particularly  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  on  one  side,  and,  on 
the  other,  along  the  borders  of  the  river,  which,  in  the 
pauses  of  the  gusts,  could  be  heard  sweeping  hard  by  over 
a  broken  and  pebbly  channel.  Patches  of  bushes  might 
even  be  seen  growing  in  places  on  the  square  itself;  and 
here  and  there  were  a  few  tall  trees,  remnants  of  the  old 


294  NICK    OP   THE    WOODS. 

forest  which  had  once  overshadowed  the  scene,  towering 
aloft,  and  sending  forth  on  the  blast  such  spiritual  mur- 
murs and  wild  oraculous  whispers  as  were  wont,  in  ancient 
days,  to  strike  an  awe  through  soothsayers  and  devotees  in 
the  sacred  groves  of  Dodona. 

Through  this  square,  looking  solitude  and  desolation 
together,  lay  the  path  of  the  spy;  and  he  trod  it  without 
fear,  although  it  offered  an  obstruction  that  might  well 
have  daunted  the  zeal  of  one  less  crafty  and  determined. 
In  its  centre,  and  near  the  Council-house,  he  discovered  a 
fire,  now  burning  low,  but  still,  as  the  breeze  time  by  time 
fanned  the  decaying  embers  into  flame,  sending  forth  light 
enough  to  reveal  the  spectacle  of  at  least  a  dozen  savages 
stretched  in  slumber  around  it,  with  as  many  ready  rifles 
stacked  round  a  post  hard  by. 

Their  appearance,  without  affrighting,  greatly  perplexed 
the  man  of  peace,  who,  though  at  first  disposed  to  regard 
them  as  a  kind  of  guard,  to  whom  had  been  committed  the 
charge  of  the  village  and  the  peace  of  the  community  dur- 
ing the  uproar  and  terrors  of  the  debauch,  found  reason, 
upon  more  mature  inspection,  to  consider  them  a  band  from 
some  neighboring  village,  perhaps  an  out-going  war-party, 
which,  unluckily  for  himself,  had  tarried  at  the  village  to 
share  the  hospitalities  and  take  part  in  the  revels  of  its 
inhabitants.  Thus  there  was  near  the  fire  a  huge  heap  of 
dried  corn-husks  and  prairie-grass,  designed  for  a  couch — 
a  kind  of  luxury  which  Nathan  supposed  the  villagers 
would  have  scarce  taken  the  trouble  to  provide  unless  for 
guests,  whose  warlike  pride  and  sense  of  honor  would  not 
permit  them  to  sleep  under  cover  until  they  had  struck 
the  enemy  in  his  own  country,  and  were  returning  victori- 
ous to  their  own;  and,  as  a  proof  that  they  had  shared  as 
guests  in  all  the  excesses  of  their  hosts,  but  few  of  them 
were  seen  huddled  together  on  the  couch,  the  majority 
lying  about  in  such  confusion  and  postures  as  could  only 
have  been  produced  by  the  grossest  indulgence. 

Pausing  a  while,  but  not  deterred  by  the  discovery  of 
such  undesirable  neighbors,  Nathan  easily  avoided  them 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  295 

by  making  the  circuit  of  the  square;  creeping  along  from 
tree  to  tree,  and  bush  to  bush,  until  he  had  left  the  whole 
group  in  the  rear,  and  arrived  in  the  vicinity  of  a  cabin, 
which,  from  its  appearance,  might  with  propriety  be  sup- 
posed the  dwelling  of  the  most  distinguished  demagogue 
of  the  tribe.  It  was  a  cottage  of  logs,  very  similar  to  those 
of  the  renegades,  who  had  themselves  perhaps  built  it  for 
,the  chief,  whose  favor  it  was  so  necessary  to  purchase  by 
every  means  in  their  power;  but  as  it  consisted  of  only  a 
single  room,  and  that  by  no  means  spacious,  the  bar- 
barian had  seen  fit  to  eke  it  out  by  a  brace  of  summer  apart- 
ments, being  tents  of  skins,  which  were  pitched  at  its  ends 
like  wings,  and  perhaps  communicated  directly  with  the 
interior,  though  each  had  its  own  particular  door  of  mats 
looking  out  upon  the  square. 

All  these  appearances  Nathan  could  easily  note,  in  occa- 
sional gleams  from  the  fire,  which,  falling  upon  the  rude 
and  misshapen  lodge,  revealed  its  features  obscurely  to  the 
eye.  It  bore  an  air  of  solitude  that  became  the  dwelling 
of  a  chief.  The  soil  around  it,  as  if  too  sacred  to  be 
invaded  by  the  profane  feet  of  the  multitude,  was  left 
overgrown  with  weeds  and  starveling  bushes;  and  an  an- 
cient elm,  rising  among  them,  and  flinging  its  shadowy 
branches  wide  around,  stood  like  a  giant  watchman,  to 
repel  the  gaze  of  the  curious. 

This  solitude,  these  bushes,  through  which  he  could  crawl 
unobserved,  and  the  shadows  of  the  tree,  offering  a  con- 
cealment equally  effectual  and  inviting,  were  all  circum- 
stances in  Nathan's  favor ;  and  giving  one  backward  glance 
to  the  fire  on  the  square,  and  then  fixing  his  eyes  on  one 
of  the  tents,  in  which,  as  the  mat  at  the  door  shook  in  the 
breeze,  he  could  detect  the  glimmering  of  a  light,  and 
fancied  he  could  even  faintly  hear  the  murmur  of  voices, 
he  crawled  among  the  bushes,  scarcely  doubting  that  he 
was  now  within  but  a  few  feet  of  the  unhappy  maid  in 
whose  service  he  had  toiled  so  long  and  so  well. 

But  the  path  to  the  wigwam  was  not  yet  free  from  ob- 
gtructions,  He  had  scarce  pushed  aside  the  first  bu&h  in. 


296  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

his  way,  opening  a  vista  into  the  den  of  leaves  where  he 
looked  to  find  his  best  concealment,,  before  a  flash  of  light 
from  the  fire,  darting  through  the  gap,  and  falling  upon  a 
dark  grim  visage  almost  within  reach  of  his  hand,  showed 
him  that  he  had  stumbled  unawares  upon  a  sleeping  savage, 
— a  man  that  had  evidently  staggered  there  in  his  drunken- 
ness, and  falling  among  the  bushes,  had  straightway  given 
himself  up  to  sottish  repose. 

For  the  first  time  a  thrill  smote  through  the  bosom  of 
the  spy,  but  it  was  not  wholly  a  thrill  of  dismay.  There 
was  little  indeed  in  the  appearance  of  the  wretched  sleeper, 
at  that  moment,  to  inspire  terror ;  for,  apart  from  the  con- 
dition of  the  helpless  impotence  to  which  his  ungovern- 
able appetites  had  reduced  him,  he  seemed  to  be  entirely 
unarmed, — at  least  Nathan  could  see  neither  knife  nor 
tomahawk  about  him.  But  there  was  that  in  the  grim 
visage,  withered  with  age  and  seamed  with  many  a  scar, — 
in  the  mutilated,  but  bony  and  still  nervous  hand  lying 
on  the  broad  naked  chest, — and  in  the  recollections  of  the 
past  they  recalled  to  Nathan's  brain,  which  awoke  a  feel- 
ing not  less  exciting,  if  less  unworthy,  than  fear. 

In  the  first  impulse  of  surprise,  it  is  true,  he  started 
backwards,  and  grovelling  flat  upon  his  face,  as  if  to  beat 
an  instant  retreat  in  the  only  posture  which  could  con- 
ceal him,  if  the  sleeper  should  have  been  disturbed  by  his 
approach.  But  the  savage  slept  on,  drugged  to  stupefac- 
tion by  many  a  deep  and  potent  draught ;  and  Nathan  pre- 
serving his  snake-like  position  only  for  a  moment,  rose 
slowly  upon  his  hands,  and  peered  over  again  upon  the  un- 
conscious barbarian. 

But  the  bushes  had  closed  again  around  him,  and  the 
glimmer  of  the  dying  fire  no  longer  fell  upon  the  bar- 
barian. With  an  audacity  of  daring  that  marked  the 
eagerness  and  intensity  of  his  curiosity,  Nathan  with  his 
hands  pushed  the  bushes  aside,  so  as  again  to  bring  a 
gleam  upon  the  swarthy  countenance;  which  he  perused 
with  such  feelings  as  left  him  for  a  time  unconscious  of 
the  object  of  his  enterprise^  unconscious  of  every  thin^r 


NICK    OF    THE    WOOD8.  897 

save  the  spectacle  before  him,  the  embodied  representation 
of  features  which  events  of  former  years  had  painted  in 
indelible  hues  on  his  remembrance. 

The  face  was  that  of  a  warrior,  worn  with  years,  and 
covered  with  such  scars  as  could  be  boasted  only  by  one  of 
the  most  distinguished  men  of  the  tribe.  Deep  seams  also 
marked  the  naked  chest  of  the  sleeper ;  and  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  appearance  of  his  garments  of  dressed  hides, 
which,  though  squalid  enough,  were  garnished  with  multi- 
tudes of  silver  broaches  and  tufts  of  human  hair,  with  here 
and  there  a  broad  Spanish  dollar  looped  ostentatiously  to 
the  skin,  to  prove  he  was  any  thing  but  a  common  brave. 
To  each  ear  was  attached  a  string  of  silver  coins,  strung 
together  in  regular  gradation  from  the  largest  to  the  small- 
est,— a  profusion  of  wealth  which  could  appertain  only  to 
a  chief. 

To  prove,  indeed,  that  he  was  no  less,  there  was  visible 
upon  his  head,  secured  to  the  tiara,  or  glory,  as  it  might 
be  called  (for  such  is  its  figure)  of  badgers'  hairs,  which  is 
so  often  found  woven  around  the  scalp-lock  of  a  north- 
western Indian,  an  ornament  consisting  of  the  beak  and 
claws  of  a  buzzard,  and  some  dozen  or  more  of  its  sable 
feathers.  These,  as  Nathan  had  previously  told  the  sol- 
dier, were  the  distinguishing  badges  of  Wenonga,  or  the 
Black  Vulture  (for  so  the  name  is  translated)  and  it  was 
no  less  a  person  than  Wenonga  himself,  the  oldest,  most 
famous,  and  at  one  time  the  most  powerful  chief  of  his 
tribe,  who  thus  lay,  a  wretched,  squalid  sot,  before  the  doors 
of  his  own  wigwam,  which  he  had  been  unable  to  reach. 

Such  was  Wenonga,  such  were  many  of  the  bravest  and 
most  distinguished  of  his  truly  unfortunate  race,  who 
exchanged  their  lands,  their  fathers'  graves,  and  the  lives 
of  their  people,  for  the  doubtful  celebrity  which  the  white 
man  is  so  easily  disposed  to  allow  them. 

The  spy  looked  upon  the  face  of  the  Indian;  but  there 
was  none  at  hand  to  gaze  upon  his  own,  to  mark  the  hide 
ous  frown  of  hate,  and  the  more  hideous  grin  of  delight, 
that  mingled  on  and  distorted  his  visage,  as  he  gloated, 


298  NICK   OF    THE   WOODS. 

snake-like,  over  that  of  the  chief.  As  he  looked,  he  drew 
from  its  sheath  in  his  girdle  his  well-worn  but  still  bright 
and  keen  knife,  which  he  poised  in  one  hand,  while  feeling 
with  what  seemed  extraordinary  fearlessness  or  confidence 
of  his  prey,  with  the  other  along  the  sleeper's  naked  breast, 
as  if  regardless  how  soon  he  might  awake.  But  Wenonga 
still  slept  on,  though  the  hand  of  the  white  man  lay  upon 
his  ribs,  and  rose  and  fell  with  the  throbs  of  his  warlike 
heart.  The  knife  took  the  place  of  the  hand,  and  one 
thrust  would  have  driven  it  through  the  organ  that  had 
never  beaten  with  pity  or  remorse ;  and  that  thrust  Nathan, 
quivering  through  every  fibre  with  nameless  joy  and  exul- 
tation, and  forgetful  of  every  thing  but  his  prey,  was 
about  to  make.  He  nerved  his  hand  for  the  blow,  but  it 
trembled  with  eagerness.  He  paused  an  instant,  and  be- 
fore he  could  make  a  second  effort,  a  voice  from  the  wig- 
wam struck  upon  his  ear,  and  the  strength  departed  from 
his  arm. 

He  staggered  back,  and  awoke  to  consciousness;  the 
sound  was  repeated ;  it  was  the  wail  of  a  female  voice,  and 
its  mournful  accents,  coming  to  his  ear  in  an  interval  of 
the  gust,  struck  a  new  feeling  into  his  bosom.  He  remem- 
bered the  captive,  and  his  errand  of  charity  and  mercy. 
He  drew  a  deep  and  painful  breath,  and  muttering,  but 
within  the  silent  recesses  of  his  breast,  "Thee  shall  not  call 
to  me  in  vain  I"  buried  the  knife  softly  in  his  sheath. 

Then  crawling  silently  away,  and  leaving  the  chief  to  his 
slumbers,  he  crept  through  the  bushes  until  he  had  reached 
the  tent  from  which  the  mourning  voice  proceeded.  Still 
lying  upon  his  face,  he  dragged  himself  to  the  door,  and 
looking  under  the  corner  of  the  mat  that  waved  before  it  in 
the  wind,  he  saw  at  a  glance  that  he  had  reached  the  goal 
of  his  journey. 

The  tent  was  of  an  oval  figure,  and  of  no  great  extent; 
but  being  lighted  only  by  a  fire  burning  dimly  in  the 
centre  of  its  earthen  floor,  and  its  frail  walls  darkened  by 
smoke,  the  eye  could  scarcely  penetrate  to  its  dusky  ex- 
tremity. It  consisted,  as  has  been  said,  of  skins,  whiob 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  299 

were  supported  upon  poles,  wattled  together  like  the 
frame-work  of  a  crate  or  basket;  the  poles  of  the  opposite 
sides  being  kept  asunder  by  cross  pieces,  which,  at  the  com- 
mon centre  of  intersection  or  radiation,  were  themselves 
upheld  by  a  stout  wooden  pillar.  Upon  this  pillar,  and 
on  the  slender  rafters,  were  laid  or  suspended  sundry 
Indian  utensils  of  the  kitchen  and  the  field, — wooden 
bowls,  earthen  pans,  and  brazen  pots,  guns,  hatchets,  and 
fish-spears,  with  ears  of  corn,  dried  roots,  smoked  meats, 
blankets,  and  skins,  and  many  articles  that  had  perhaps 
been  plundered  from  the  Long-knives,  such  as  halters  and 
bridles,  hats,  coats,  shawls,  and  aprons,  and  other  such 
gear;  among  which  was  conspicuous  a  bundle  of  scalps, 
some  of  them  with  long  female  tresses, — the  proofs  of  the 
prowess  of  a  great  warrior,  who,  like  the  other  fighting  men 
of  his  race,  accounted  the  golden  ringlets  of  a  girl  as  noble 
a  trophy  of  valor  as  the  grizzled  locks  of  a  veteran  soldier. 

On  the  floor  of  the  tent,  piled  against  its  sides  and  fur- 
thest extremity,  was  the  raised  platform  of  skins,  with  rude 
partitions  and  curtains  of  mats,  which  formed  the  sleep- 
ing-couch, or,  perhaps  we  might  say,  the  sleeping-apart- 
ments of  the  lodge.  But  these  were  in  a  great  measure 
hidden  under  the  heaps  of  blankets,  skins,  and  other  trum- 
pery articles,  that  seemed  to  have  been  snatched  in  some 
sudden  hurry  from  the  floor,  which  they  had  previously 
cumbered.  In  fact,  there  was  every  appearance  that  the 
tent  had  been  for  a  long  time  used  as  a  kind  of  store-room, 
the  receptacle  of  a  bandit's  omnium-gatherum,  and  had 
had  been  hastily  prepared  for  unexpected  inmates. 

But  these  particulars,  which  he  might  have  noted  at  a 
glance,  Nathan  did  not  pause  to  survey.  There  were  ob- 
jects of  greater  attraction  for  his  eyes  in  a  group  of  three 
female  figures;  in  one  of  whom,  standing  near  the  fire, 
and  grasping  the  hands  and  garments  of  a  second,  as  if 
imploring  pity  or  protection,  her  hair  dishevelled,  her  visage 
bloodless,  her  eyes  wild  with  grief  and  terror,  he  beheld 
the  object  of  his  perilous  enterprise,  the  lovely  and  unhappy 
Edith  Forrester.  Struggling  in  her  grasp,  as  if  to  escape, 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

yet  weeping,  and  uttering  hurried  expressions  that  were 
meant  to  soothe  the  agitation  of  the  captive,  was  the 
renegade's  daughter,  Telie,  who  seemed  herself  little 
less  terrified  than  the  prisoner.  The  third  person  of  the 
group  was  an  Indian  beldam,  old,  withered,  and  witch-like, 
who  sat  crouching  over  the  fire,  warming  her  skinny  hands, 
and  only  intermitting  her  employment  occasionally  to  eye 
the  more  youthful  pair  with  looks  of  malignant  hatred  and 
suspicion. 

The  gale  was  still  freshening,  and  the  elm-boughs  rustled 
loudly  in  the  wind ;  but  Nathan  could  overhear  every  word 
of  the  captive,  as,  still  grasping  Telie  by  the  hand,  she 
besought  her,  in  the  language  of  desperation,  "not  to  leavo 
her,  not  to  desert  her  at  such  a  moment,"  while  Telie,  still 
shedding  tears,  which  seemed  to  be  equally  those  of  shame 
and  sorrow,  entreated  her  to  fear  nothing,  and  permit  her 
to  depart. 

"They  won't  hurt  you, — no,  my  father  promised  that," 
she  said;  "it  is  the  chief's  house,  and  nobody  will  come 
nigh  to  hurt  you.  You  are  safe,  lady ;  but  oh !  my  father 
will  kill  me  if  he  finds  me  here." 

"It  was  your  father  that  caused  it  all !"  cried  Edith, 
with  a  vehement  change  of  feeling;  "it  was  he  that  be- 
trayed us,  he  that  killed,  oh !  killed  my  Eoland !  Go,  I 
hate  you !  Heaven  will  punish  you  for  what  you  have  done ; 
Heaven  will  never  forgive  the  treachery  and  the  murder. 
Go,  go;  they  will  kill  me,  and  then  all  will  be  well, — yes, 
all  will  be  well !" 

But  Telie,  thus  released,  no  longer  sought  to  fly.  She 
strove  to  obtain  and  kiss  the  hand  that  repelled  her,  sob- 
bing bitterly,  and  reiterating  her  assurances  that  no  harm 
was  designed  the  maiden. 

"No,  no  harm!  Do  I  not  know  it  all!"  exclaimed 
Edith,  again  giving  way  to  her  fears,  and  grasping  Telie's 
arm.  "You  are  not  like  your  father;  if  you  betrayed  me 
once,  you  will  not  betray  me  again.  Stay  with  me, — yes, 
stay  with  me,  and  I'll  forgive  you — forgive  you  all.  That 
man, — that  dreadful  man !  I  know  him  well ;  he  will 


NICK   OF   THE    WOODS.  301 

come : — 'tie  has  murdered  my  cousin,  and  he  is — oh  heaven, 
how  black  a  villain!  Stay  with  me,  Telie,  to  protect  me 
from  that  man ;  stay  with  me,  and  Til  forgive  all  you  have 
done." 

It  was  with  such  wild  entreaties  Edith,  agitated  by  an 
excitement  that  seemed  almost  to  have  unsettled  her  brain, 
still  urged  Telie  not  to  abandon  her ;  while  Telie,  repeating 
again  and  again  her  protestations  that  no  injury  was  de- 
signed or  could  happen,  and  that  the  old  woman  at  the 
fire  was  specially  deputed  to  protect  her  and  would  do  so, 
begged  to  be  permitted  to  go,  insisting,  with  every  appear- 
ance of  sincere  alarm,  that  her  father  would  kill  her  if  she 
remained, — that  he  had  forbidden  her  to  come  near  the 
prisoner,  which,  nevertheless,  she  had  secretly  done,  and 
would  do  again,  if  she  could  this  time  avoid  discovery. 

But  her  protestations  were  of  little  avail  in  moving 
Edith  to  her  purpose;  and  it  was  only  when  the  latter, 
worn  out  by  suffering  and  agitation,  and  sinking  helpless 
on  the  couch  at  her  feet,  had  no  longer  the  power  to  oppose 
her,  that  Telie  hurriedly,  yet  with  evident  grief  and  re- 
luctance, tore  herself  away.  She  pressed  the  captive's 
hand  to  her  lips,  bathed  it  in  her  tears,  and  then  with  many 
a  backward  glance  of  sorrow,  stole  from  the  lodge. 

Nathan  crawled  aside  as  she  passed  out,  and  watching  a 
moment  until  she  had  fled  across  the  square,  returned  to 
his  place  of  observation.  He  looked  again  into  the  tent, 
and  his  heart  smote  him  with  pity  as  he  beheld  the  wretched 
Edith  sitting  in  a  stupor  of  despair,  her  head  sunk  upon 
her  breast,  her  hands  clasped,  her  ashy  lips  quivering,  but 
uttering  no  articulate  sound.  "Thee  prays  heaven  to  help 
thee,  poor  maid !"  he  muttered  to  himself ;  '^heaven  de- 
nied the  prayer  of  them  that  was  as  good  and  as  lovely; 
but  thee  is  not  yet  forsaken !" 

He  took  his  knife  from  its  sheath,  and  turned  his  eyes 
upon  the  old  hag,  who  sat  at  the  fire  with  her  back  partly 
towards  him,  but  her  eyes  fastened  upon  the  captive,  over 
whom  they  wandered  with  the  fierce  and  unappeasable 
malice  that  was  in  those  days  seen  rankling  in  the  breast 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

of  many  an  Indian  mother,  and  expended  upon  prisoners  at 
the  stake  with  a  savage,  nay,  a  demoniacal  zeal,  that  might 
have  put  warriors  to  shame.  In  truth,  the  unlucky  cap- 
tive had  always  more  to  apprehend  from  the  squaws  of  a 
tribe  than  from  its  warriors ;  and  their  cries  for  vengeance 
often  gave  to  the  torture  wretches  whom  even  their  cruel 
husbands  were  inclined  to  spare. 

With  knife  in  hand,  and  murderous  thoughts  in  his 
heart,  Nathan  raised  a  corner  of  the  mat,  and  glared  fo? 
a  moment  upon  the  beldam.  But  the  feelings  of  the  white 
man  prevailed,  he  hesitated,  faltered,  and  dropping  the 
mat  in  its  place,  retreated  silently  from  the  door.  Then 
restoring  his  knife  for  a  second  time  to  its  sheath,  listen- 
ing awhile  to  hear  if  the  drunken  Wenonga  yet  stirred  in 
his  lair,  and  taking  a  survey  of  the  sleepers  at  the  nearly 
extinguished  fire,  he  crept  away,  retraced  his  steps  through 
the  village  to  the  place  where  he  had  left  the  captain  of 
horse-thieves,  whom — to  the  shame  of  that  worthy  be  if. 
spoken — he  found  fast  locked  in  the  arms  of  Morpheus,  and 
breathing  such  a  melody  from  his  upturned  nostrils  as 
might  have  roused  the  whole  village  from  its  repose,  ha<? 
not  that  been  at  least  twice  as  sound  and  deep  as  his  own. 

"  'Tarnal  death  to  me !"  said  he,  rubbing  his  eyes  wheu 
Nathan  shook  him  from  his  slumbers,  "I  war  nigh  gone  in 
a  dead  snooze ! — being  as  how  I  arn't  had  a  true  reggelai 
mouthful  of  snortin'  this  h'yar  no  time, — considering  I  al- 
ways took  it  with  my  hoptical  peepers  right  open.  But  I 
say,  Bloody  Nathan,  what's  the  last  news  from  the  abbre- 
gynes  and  anngellif erous  madam  ?" 

"Give  me  one  of  thee  halters,"  said  Nathan,  "and  do  thee 
observe  now  what  I  have  to  say  to  thee." 

"A  halter !"  cried  Ealph,  in  dudgeon ;  "you  arn't  for  do- 
ing all,  and  the  hoss  stealing  too  ?" 

"Friend,"  said  Nathan,  "with  this  halter  I  must  bind 
one  that  sits  in  watch  over  the  maiden;  and,  truly,  it  is 
better  it  should  be  so,  seeing  that  these  hands  of  mine  have 
never  been  stained  with  the  blood  of  woman/' 

"And  you  have  found  my  mistress,  old  Bloody?"  said 


NICK   OF   THE   WOODS.  303 

Ralph,  in  a  rapture.  "Jist  call  the  captain,  and  let's  be  a 
going!" 

"He's  a  brave  youth,  and  a  youth  of  mighty  heart/'  said 
Nathan,  "but  this  is  no  work  for  them  that  has  never  seen 
the  ways  of  an  Injun  village.  Now,  friend,  does  thee  hear 
me?  The  town  is  alive  with  fighting  men,  and  there  is  a 
war  party  of  fourteen  painted  Wyandots  sleeping  on  the 
Council-square.  But  don't  thee  be  dismayed  thereupon; 
for  truly  these  assassin  creatures  is  all  besotted  with  drink ; 
and  were  there  with  us  but  ten  stout  young  men  of  Ken- 
tucky, I  do  truly  believe  we  could  knock  every  murdering 
dog  of  'em  on  the  head,  and  nobody  the  wiser.  Does  thee 
"hear,  friend  ?  Do  but  thee  own  part  in  this  endeavor  well, 
and  we  will  save  the  young  and  tender  maid  thee  calls 
madam.  Take  theeself  to  the  pound,  which  thee  may 
safely  do  by  following  the  hill ;  pick  out  four  good  horses, 
fleet  and  strong,  and  carry  them  safely  away,  going  up  the 
valley, — mind,  friend,  thee  must  go  up,  as  if  thee  was 
speeding  thee  way  to  the  Big  Lake,  instead  of  to  Kentucky ; 
then,  when  thee  has  ridden  a  mile,  thee  may  cross  the  brook, 
and  follow  the  hills  till  thee  has  reached  the  hiding  place 
that  we  did  spy  from  out  upon  this  village.  Thee  hears, 
friend?  There  thee  will  find  the  fair  maid  Edith;  which 
I  will  straightway  fetch  out  of  her  bondage.  And,  truly, 
it  may  be,  that  I  have  learned  that  this  night,  which  will 
make  both  her  and  the  young  man  thee  calls  captain,  which 
is  a  brave  young  man,  both  rich  and  happy.  And  now, 
friend,  thee  has  heard  me,  and  thee  must  do  thee  duty." 

"If  I  don't  fetch  her  the  beautifulest  hoss  that  war  ever 
seed  in  the  woods/'  said  Ealph,  "thar's  no  reason,  except 
because  the  Injuns  arn't  had  good  luck  this  year  in  grab- 
bing !  And  I'd  fetch  him  round  up  the  holler,  jist  as  you 
say  too,  and  round  about  till  I  strike  the  snuggery  jist  the 
same  way;  for  thar's  the  way  you  show  judgmatical,  and 
I'm  cl'ar  of  your  way  of  thinking.  And  so  now,  h'yar's 
my  fo'paw,  in  token  thar's  no  two  ways  about  ma,  Ealph 
Stackpole,  a  hoss  to  my  friends,  and  a  nigger  to  them  that 


NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

With  these  words,  the  two  associates,  equally  zealous  in 
the  cause  in  which  they  had  embarked,  parted,  each  to 
achieve  his  own  particular  share  of  the  adventure,  in  which 
they  had  left  so  little  to  be  done  by  the  young  Virginian. 

But,  as  it  happened,  neither  Koland's  inclination  nor 
fate  was  favorable  to  his  playing  so  insignificant  a  part  in 
the  undertaking.  He  had  remained  in  the  place  of  con- 
cealment assigned  to  him,  tortured  by  suspense,  and  racked 
by  self-reproach,  for  more  than  an  hour;  until,  his  im- 
patience getting  the  better  of  his  judgment,  he  resolved  to 
creep  nigher  the  village,  to  ascertain,  if  possible,  the  state 
of  affairs.  He  had  arrived  within  ear-shot  of  the  pair, 
and  without  overhearing  all,  had  gathered  enough  of  their 
conversation  to  convince  him  that  Edith  was  at  last  found, 
and  that  the  blow  was  now  to  be  struck  for  her  deliverance. 
His  two  associates  separated  before  he  could  reach  them; 
Ealph  plunging  among  the  bushes  that  covered  the  hill, 
while  Nathan,  as  before,  stalked  boldly  into  the  village. 
He  called  softly  after  the  latter  to  attract  his  notice ;  but 
his  voice  was  lost  in  the  gusts  sweeping  along  the  hill,  and 
Nathan  proceeded  forwards  without  heeding  him.  He 
hesitated  a  moment  whether  to  follow,  or  return  to  his  sta- 
tion, where  little  Peter,  more  obedient,  or  more  prudent 
than  himself,  still  lay,  having  resolutely  refused  to  stir  at 
the  soldier's  invitation  to  accompany  him,  until  finally 
surrendering  his  discretion  to  his  anxiety,  he  resolved  to 
pursue  after  Nathan, — a  measure  of  imprudence,  if  not  of 
folly,  which  at  a  less  exciting  moment  no  one  would  have 
been  more  ready  to  condemn  than  himself.  But  the  image 
of  Edith  in  captivity,  and  perhaps  of  Braxley  standing  by, 
the  master  of  her  fate,  was  impressed  upon  his  heart  as  if 
pricked  into  it  with  daggers ;  and  to  remain  longer  at  a 
distance  and  in  inaction  was  impossible.  Imitating  Na- 
than's mode  of  advance  as  well  as  he  could,  guided  by  his 
dusky  figure,  and  hoping  soon  to  overtake  him,  he  pushed 
forward,  and  was  soon  in  the  dreaded  village. 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  305 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

Thou 

Solicit'st  here  a  lady,   that  disdains 
Thee  and  the  devil  alike. 

— Cymbeline. 

IN  the  meanwhile  Edith  sat  in  the  tent  abandoned  to 
despair,  her  mind  not  yet  recovered  from  the  stunning 
effect  of  her  calamity,  struggling  confusedly  with  images 
of  blood  and  phantasms  of  fear,  the  dreary  recollections  of 
the  past  mingling  with  the  scarce  less  dreadful  anticipa- 
tions of  the  future.  Of  the  battle  on  the  hillside  she  re- 
membered nothing,  save  the  fall  of  her  kinsman,  shot 
down  at  her  feet — all  she  had  herself  witnessed,  and  all 
she  could  believe;  for  Telie  Doe's  assurances,  contradicted 
in  effect  by  her  constant  tears  and  agitation,  that  he  had 
been  carried  off  to  captivity  like  herself,  conveyed  no  con- 
viction to  her  mind;  from  that  moment  events  were  pic- 
tured on  her  memory  as  the  records  of  a  feverish  dream, 
including  all  the  incidents  of  her  wild  and  hurried  jour- 
ney to  the  Indian  village.  But  with  these  broken  and 
dreamlike  reminiscences,  there  were  associated  recollections, 
vague,  yet  not  the  less  terrifying,  of  a  visage  that  had 
haunted  her  presence  by  day  and  night  throughout  the 
whole  journey,  watching  over  her  with  the  pertinacity  of 
an  evil  genius;  and  which,  as  her  faculties  woke  slowly 
from  their  trance,  assumed  every  moment  a  more  distinct 
and  dreaded  appearance  in  her  imagination. 

It  was  upon  these  hated  features,  seen  side  by  side  with 
the  blood-stained  aspect  of  her  kinsman,  she  now  pondered 
in  mingled  grief  and  terror;  starting  occasionally  from 
the  horror  of  her  thoughts  only  to  be  driven  back  to 
them  again  by  the  scowling  eyes  of  the  old  crone;  who, 
still  crouching  over  the  fire,  as  if  the  warmth  could  never 
strike  deep  enough  into  her  frozen  veins,  watched  every 
movement  and  every  look  with  the  vigilance,  and,  as  it 
seemed,  the  viciousness  of  a  serpent.  No  ray  of  pity  shone 


306  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

even  for  a  moment  from  her  forbidding,  and  even  hideous 
countenance;  she  offered  no  words,  she  made  no  signs  of 
sympathy;  and,  as  if  to  prove  her  hearty  disregard  or 
profound  contempt  for  the  prisoner's  manifest  distress, 
she  by  and  by,  to  while  the  time,  began  to  drone  out  a 
succession  of  grunting  sounds,  such  as  make  up  a  red 
man's  melody,  and  such  indeed  as  any  village  urchin  can 
drum  with  his  heels  out  of  an  empty  hogshead. 

The  song,  thus  barbarously  chaunted,  at  first  startled 
and  affrighted  the  captive;  but  its  monotony  had  at  last 
an  effect  which  the  beldam  was  far  from  designing.  It 
diverted  the  maiden's  mind  in  a  measure  from  its  own 
harassing  thoughts,  and  thus  introduced  a  kind  of  com- 
posure where  all  had  been  before  painful  agitation.  Nay, 
as  the  sounds,  which  were  at  no  time  very  loud,  mingled 
with  the  piping  of  the  gale  without,  and  the  rustling  of  the 
old  elm  at  the  door,  they  lost  their  harshness,  and  were 
softened  into  a  descant  that  was  lulling  to  the  senses,  and 
might,  like  a  gentler  nepenthe,  have  in  time  cheated  the 
over-weary  mind  to  repose. 

Such,  perhaps,  was  beginning  to  be  its  effect.  Edith 
ceased  to  bend  upon  the  hag  the  wild,  terrified  looks  that 
at  first  rewarded  the  music;  she  sunk  her  head  upon  her 
bosom,  and  sat  as  if  gradually  giving  way  to  a  lethargy 
of  spirit,  which,  if  not  sleep,  was  sleep's  most  beneficent 
substitute. 

From  this  state  of  calm  she  was  roused  by  the  sudden 
cessation  of  the  music;  and,  looking  up,  she  beheld,  with 
a  renewal  of  all  her  alarm,  a  tall  man,  standing  before 
her,  his  face  and  figure  both  enveloped  in  the  folds  of  a 
huge  blanket,  from  which,  however,  a  pair  of  gleaming 
eyes  were  seen  rivetted  upon  her  countenance.  At  the 
same  time,  she  observed  that  the  old  Indian  woman  had 
risen,  and  was  stealing  softly  from  the  apartment.  Filled 
with  terror,  she  would  have  rushed  after  the  hag  to  claim 
her  protection;  but  she  was  immediately  arrested  by  the 
visitor,  who,  seizing  her  by  the  arm  firmly,  yet  with  an 
air  of  respect,  and  suffering  his  blanket  to  drop  to  the 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  307 

ground,  displayed  to  her  gaze  features  that  had  long  dwelt 
in  darkest  fathoms  upon  her  mind.  As  he  seized  her,  he 
muttered,  and  still  with  an  accent  of  the  most  earnest  re- 
spect— "Fear  me  not,  Edith ;  I  am  not  yet  an  enemy." 

His  voice,  though  one  of  gentleness,  and  even  of  music, 
completed  the  terrors  of  the  captive,  who  trembled  in  his 
hand  like  a  quail  in  the  clutches  of  a  kite,  and  would,  but 
for  his  grasp,  as  powerful  to  sustain  as  to  oppose,  have 
fallen  to  the  floor.  Her  lips  quivered,  but  they  gave  forth 
no  sound;  and  her  eyes  were  fastened  upon  his  with  a 
wildness  and  intensity  of  glare  that  showed  the  fascination, 
the  temporary  self-abandonment  of  her  spirit. 

"Fear  me  not,  Edith  Forrester,"  he  repeated,  with  a 
Toice  even  more  soothing  than  before;  "you  know  me; — I 
am  no  savage; — I  will  do  you  no  harm." 

"Yes, — yes, — yes/'  muttered  Edith  at  last,  but  in  the 
tones  of  an  automaton,  they  were  so  broken  and  inarticu- 
late, yet  so  unnaturally  calm  and  unimpassioned — "I  know 
you — yes,  yes,  I  do  know  you,  and  know  you  well.  You 
are  Richard  Braxley — the  robber,  and  now  the  persecutor 
of  the  orphan ;  and  this  hand  that  holds  me  is  red  with  the 
blood  of  my  cousin.  Oh,  villain !  villain !  are  you  not  yet 
content?" 

"The  prize  is  not  yet  won,"  replied  the  other,  with  a 
smile  that  seemed  intended  to  express  his  contempt  of  the 
maiden's  invectives,  and  his  ability  to  forgive  them:  "I 
am  indeed  Richard  Braxley,  the  friend  of  Edith  Forrester, 
though  she  will  not  believe  it — a  rough  and  self-willed 
one,  it  m8y  be,  but  still  her  true  and  unchangeable  friend. 
Where  will  she  look  for  a  better?  Anger  has  not  alienated, 
contempt  has  not  estranged  me;  injury  and  injustice  still 
find  me  the  same.  I  am  still  Edith  Forrester's  friend ;  and 
such,  in  the  sturdiness  of  my  affection,  I  will  remain, 
whether  my  fair  mistress  will  or  no.  But  you  are  feeble 
and  agitated,  sit  down  and  listen  to  me.  I  have  that  to 
say  which  will  convince  my  thoughtless  fair  one  the  day  of 
disdain  is  now  over." 

All   these    expressions,  though   uttered   with    seeming 


308  KICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

blandness,  were  yet  accompanied  by  an  air  of  decision^ 
and  even  command,  as  if  the  speaker  were  conscious  the 
maiden  was  fully  in  his  power,  and  not  unwilling  she 
should  know  it.  But  his  attempt  to  make  her  resume  her 
seat  upon  the  pile  of  skins  from  which  she  had  so  wildly 
started  at  his  entrance  was  resisted  by  Edith,  who,  gather- 
ing courage  from  desperation,  and  shaking  his  hand  from 
her  arm,  as  if  snatching  it  from  the  embraces  of  a  serpent, 
replied,  with  even  energy — "I  will  not  sit  down — I  will 
not  listen  to  you.  Approach  me  not — touch  me  not.  You 
are  a  villain  and  a  murderer,  and  I  loathe,  oh !  unspeakably 

loathe  your  presence.     Away  from  me,  or " 

"Or,"  interrupted  Braxley,  with  the  sneer  of  a  naturally 
mean  and  vindictive  spirit,  "you  will  cry  for  assistance ! 
From  whom  do  you  expect  it  ?  From  wild,  murderous,  be- 
sotted Indians,  who,  if  roused  from  their  drunken  slum- 
bers, would  be  more  likely  to  assail  you  with  their  hatchets 
than  to  weep  for  your  sorrows?  Know,  fair  Edith,  that 
you  are  now  in  their  hands; — that  there  is  not  one  of 
them  who  would  not  rather  see  those  golden  tresses  hung 
blackening  in  the  smoke  froo  the  rafters  of  his  wigwam, 
than  floating  over  the  brows  they  adorn.  Look  aloft : 
there  are  ringlets  of  the  young  and  fair,  the  innocent  and 
tender,  swinging  above  you !  Learn,  moreover,  that  from 
these  dangerous  friends  there  is  none  who  can  protect  you, 
save  me.  Ay,  my  beauteous  Edith/'  he  added,  as  the  cap- 
tive, overcome  by  the  representation  of  her  perils  so  un- 
scrupulously, nay,  so  sternly  made,  sank  almost  fainting 
upon  the  pile,  "it  is  even  so;  and  you  must  know  it.  It 
is  needful  you  should  know  what  you  have  to  expect  if 
you  leave  my  protection.  But  that  you  will  not  reject; 
in  faith,  you  cannot!  The  time  has  come,  as  I  told  you  it 
would,  when  your  disdainful  scruples — I  speak  plainly, 
fair  Edith ! — are  to  be  at  an  end.  I  swore  to  you,  and 
it  was  when  your  scorn  and  unbelief  were  at  the  highest — 
that  you  should  yet  smile  upon  the  man  you  disdained,  and 
smile  upon  no  other.  It  was  a  rough  and  uncouth  threat 
for  a  lover;  but  my  mistress  would  have  it  so.  It  was  a 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

vow  breathed  in  anger ;  but  it  was  a  vow  not  meant  to  be 
broken.  You  tremble!  I  am  cruel  in  my  wooing;  but 
this  is  not  the  moment  for  compliment  and  deception.  You 
are  mine,,  Edith;  I  swore  it  to  myself — ay,  and  to  you. 
You  cannot  escape.  You  have  driven  me  to  extremities; 
but  they  have  succeeded.  You  are  mine;  or  you  are — • 
nothing." 

"Nothing  let  it  be,"  said  Edith,  over  whose  mind,  prone 
to  agitation  and  terror,  it  was  evident  the  fierce  and  domi- 
neering temper  of  the  individual  could  exercise  an  irre- 
sistible control, — and  who,  though  yet  striving  to  resist, 
was  visibly  sinking  before  his  stern  looks  and  menacing 
words, — "let  it  be  nothing !  Kill  me,  if  you  will,  as.  you 
have  already  killed  my  cousin.  Oh !  mockery  of  passion, 
of  humanity,  of  decency,  to  speak  to  me  thus; — to  me, 
the  relative,  the  more  than  sister,  of  him  you  have  so  basely 
and  cruelly  murdered !" 

"I  have  murdered  no  one,"  said  Braxley,  with  stony 
composure;  "and,  if  you  will  but  listen  patiently,  you  will 
find  I  am  stained  by  no  crime  save  that  of  loving  a  woman 
who  forces  me  to  woo  her  like  a  master,  rather  than  a 
slave.  Your  cousin  is  living,  and  in  safety." 

"It  is  false,"  cried  Edith,  wringing  her  hands;  "with 
my  own  eyes  I  saw  him  fall,  and  fall  covered  with  blood !" 

"And  from  that  moment  you  saw  nothing  more,"  re- 
joined Braxley.  "The  blood  came  from  the  veins  of  others ; 
he  was  carried  away  alive,  and  almost  unhurt.  He  is  a 
captive, — a  captive  like  yourself.  And  why?  Shall  I  re- 
mind my  fair  Edith  how  much  of  her  hostility  and  scorn 
I  owed  .to  her  hot  and  foolish  kinsman  ?  how  he  persuaded 
her  the  love  she  so  naturally  bore  so  near  a  relative  was 
reason  enough  to  reject  the  affection  of  a  suitor  ?  how  im- 
possible she  should  listen  to  the  dictates  of  her  own  heart, 
or  the  calls  of  her  interest,  while  misled  by  a  counsellor 
so  indiscreet,  yet  so  trusted?  Before  that  unlucky  young 
man  stepped  between  me  and  my  love,  Edith  Forrester 
could  listen, — nay,  and  could  smile.  Nay,  deny  it,  if  you 
will ;  but  hearken.  Your  cousin  is  safe ; — rely  upon  that ; 


310  NICK   OP   THE   WOODS. 

but  rely  he  will  never  again  see  the  home  of  his  birth,  or 
the  kinswoman  whose  fortunes  he  has  so  opposed,  until 
she  is  the  wife  of  the  man  he  misjudges  and  hates.  He  is 
removed  from  my  path ;  it  was  necessary  to  my  hopes.  His 
life  is  at  all  events,  safe;  his  deliverance  rests  with  his 
kinswoman — when  she  has  plighted  her  troth,  and  surely 
she  will  plight  it." 

"Never!  never!"  cried  Edith,  starting  up,  her  indigna- 
tion for  a  moment  getting  the  better  of  her  fears;  "with 
one  so  false  and  treacherous,  so  unprincipled  and  ungrate- 
ful, so  base  and  so  revengeful — with  such  a  man,  with  such 
a  villain,  never !  no,  never  !" 

"I  am  a  villain  indeed,  Edith,"  said  Braxley,  but  with 
exemplary  coolness;  "all  men  are  so.  Good  and  evil  are 
sown  together  in  our  natures,  and  each  has  its  season  and 
its  harvest.  In  this  breast,  as  in  the  breast  of  the  worst 
and  the  noblest,  nature  set,  at  birth,  an  angel  and  a  devil, 
either  to  be  the  governor  of  my  actions,  as  either  should 
be  best  encouraged.  If  the  devil  be  now  at  work,  and  have 
been  for  months,  it  was  because  your  scorn  called  him  from 
his  slumbers.  Before  that  time,  Edith,  I  was  under  the 
domination  of  my  angel — who  then  called,  or  who  deemed 
me  a  villain?  Was  I  then  a  robber  and  persecutor  of  the 
orphan  ?  Am  I  now  ?  Perhaps  so ;  but  it  is  yourself  that 
have  made  me  so.  For  you  I  called  up  my  evil  genius  to 
my  aid,  and  my  evil  genius  aided  me.  He  bade  me  woo 
no  longer  like  the  turtle,  but  strike  like  the  falcon. 
Through  plots  and  stratagems,  through  storms  and  perils, 
through  battle  and  blood,  I  have  pursued  you,  and  I  have 
conquered  at  last.  The  captive  of  my  sword  and  my  spear, 
you  will  spurn  my  love  no  longer;  for  in  truth,  you  can- 
not. I  came  to  the  wilderness  to  seek  an  heiress  for  your 
uncle's  wealth ;  I  have  found  her.  But  she  returns  for  her 
inheritance  the  wife  of  the  seeker !  In  a  word,  my  Edith 
— for  why  should  I,  who  am  now  the  master  of  your  fate, 
forbear  the  style  of  a  conqueror  ?  why  should  I  longer  sue, 
who  have  the  power  to  command  ?  you  are  mine — mine  be- 
yond the  influence  of  caprice  or  change — mine  beyond  the 


NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

hope  of  escape.  This  village  you  will  never  leave,  but  as 
a  bride/' 

So  spoke  the  bold  wooer,  elated  by  the  consciousness  of 
successful  villainy,  and  perhaps  convinced  from  long  ex- 
perience of  the  timorous,  and  doubtless  feeble  character  of 
the  maid,  that  a  haughty  and  overbearing  tone  would  pro- 
duce an  impression,  however  painful  it  might  be  to  her, 
more  favorable  to  his  hopes  than  the  soft  hypocrisy  of  suing. 
He  was  manifestly  resolved  to  wring  from  her  fears  the 
consent  not  to  be  obtained  from  her  love ;  nor  had  he  mis- 
calculated the  power  of  such  a  display  of  bold,  unflinching, 
energetic  determination  to  consummate  all  his  schemes,  in 
awing,  if  not  bending,  her  youthful  spirit.  She  seemed 
indeed  stunned,  wholly  overpowered  by  his  resolved  and 
violent  manner;  and  she  had  scarcely  strength  to  mutter 
the  answer  that  rose  to  her  lips. 

"If  it  be  so/'  she  faltered  out,  "this  village  then  I  must 
never  leave;  for  here  I  will  die,  die  even  by  the  hands  ol 
barbarians,  and  die  a  thousand  times,  ere  I  look  upon  you, 
base  and  cruel  man,  with  any  but  the  eyes  of  detestation. 
I  hated  you  ever — I  hate  you  yet." 

"My  fair  mistress,"  said  Braxley,  with  a  sneer  thai 
might  well  have  become  the  lip  of  the  devil  he  had  pro- 
nounced the  then  ruler  of  his  breast,  "knows  not  all  the 
alternative.  Death  is  a  boon  the  savages  may  bestow  when 
the  whim  takes  them ;  but  before  that  they  must  show  their 
affection  for  their  prisoner.  There  are  many  that  can  ad- 
mire the  bright  eyes  and  ruddy  cheeks  of  the  white  maiden ; 
and  some  one,  doubtless,  will  admit  the  stranger  to  a  cor^ 
ner  of  his  wigwam  and  his  bosom!  Ay,  madam,  I  will 
speak  plainly — it  is  as  the  wife  of  Kichard  Braxley,  or  of 
a  pagan  savage,  you  go  out  of  the  tent  of  Wenonga.  Or 
why  go  out  of  the  tent  of  Wenonga  at  all?  Is  Wenonga 
insensible  to  the  beauty  of  his  guest?  The  hag  that  I 
drove  from  the  fire  seemed  already  to  see  in  her  prisoner  the 
maid  that  was  to  rob  her  of  her  husband." 

"Heaven  help  me !"  exclaimed  Edith,  sinking  again  to 
htr  seat,  wholly  overcome  by  the  horrors  it  was  the  object 


312  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

of  the  wooer  to  accumulate  on  her  mind.  He  noted  tho 
effect  of  his  threat,  and,  stealing  up,  he  took  her  trembling, 
almost  lifeless  hand,  adding,  but  in  a  softer  voice: — 

"Why  will  Edith  drive  one  who  adores  her  to  these  ex- 
tremities? Let  her  smile  but  as  she  smiled  of  yore,  and 
all  will  yet  be  well.  One  smile  secures  her  deliverance  from 
all  that  she  dreads — her  restoration  to  her  home  and  to  hap- 
piness. With  that  smile  the  angel  again  awakes  in  my 
bosom,  and  all  is  love  and  tenderness !" 

"Heaven  help  me!"  iterated  the  trembling  girl,  strug- 
gling to  shake  off  Braxley's  hand.  But  she  struggled 
feebly,  and  in  vain;  and  Braxley,  in  the  audacity  of  his 
belief  that  he  had  frightened  her  into  a  more  reasonable 
mood,  proceeded  the  length  of  throwing  an  arm  around  his 
almost  insensible  victim. 

But  heaven  was  not  unmindful  of  the  prayer  of  the 
desolate  and  helpless  maid.  Scarce  had  his  arms  encircled 
the  waist  of  the  captive,  when  a  pair  of  arms,  long  and 
brawny,  enfolded  his  body  as  in  the  hug  of  an  angry  bear, 
and,  in  an  instant,  he  lay  upon  his  back  on  the  floor,  a 
knee  upon  his  breast,  a  hand  at  his  throat,  and  a  knife, 
glittering  blood-red  in  the  light  of  the  fire,  flourished 
within  an  inch  of  his  eyes;  while  a  voice,  subdued  to  a 
whisper,  yet  distinct  as  if  uttered  in  tones  of  thunder, 
muttered  in  his  ears,  "Speak,  and  thee  dies!" 

The  attack,  so  wholly  unexpected,  so  sudden,  and  so  vio' 
lent,  'was  as  irresistible  as  astounding ;  and  Braxley,  un- 
nerved by  the  surprise  and  by  fear,  succumbing  as  to  the 
stroke  of  an  avenging  angel,  the  protector  of  innocence, 
whom  his  villainy  had  conjured  from  the  air,  lay  gasping 
on  the  earth  without  attempting  the  slighest  resistance, 
while  the  assailant,  dropping  his  knife  and  producing  a 
long  cord  of  twisted  leather,  proceeded,  with  inexpressible 
dexterity  and  speed,  to  bind  his  limbs,  which  he  did  in  a 
manner  none  the  less  effectual  for  being  so  hasty.  An 
instant  sufficed  to  secure  him  hand  and  foot;  in  another, 
a  gag  was  clapped  in  his  mouth  and  secured  by  a  turn  of 
the  rope  round  his  neck ;  at  the  third,  the  conqueror,  thru,'  fr 


In  an  instant  Braxley  lay  upon  his  back  on  the  floor,  a  knee 
upon  his  breast,  a  knife  at  his  throat.     Page  312. 

Nick  of  the  Woods 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  313 

ing  his  hand  into  his  bosom,  tore  from  it  the  stolen  will, 
which  he  immediately  after  buried  in  his  own.  Then, 
spurning  the  baffled  villain  into  a  corner,  and  flinging  over 
his  body  a  pile  of  skins  and  blankets,  until  he  was  entirely 
hidden  from  sight,  he  left  him  to  the  combined  agonies  of 
fear,  darkness,  and  suffocation. 

Such  was  the  rapidity,  indeed,  with  which  the  whole 
affair  was  conducted,  that  Braxley  had  scarce  time  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  his  assailant's  countenance ;  and  that  glimpse, 
without  abating  his  terror,  took  but  little  from  his  amaze- 
ment. It  was  the  countenance  of  an  Indian — or  such  it 
seemed — grimly  and  hideously  painted  over  with  figures  of 
snakes,  lizards,  skulls,  and  other  savages,  which  were  re- 
peated upon  the  arms,  the  half-naked  bosom,  and  even  the 
squalid  shirt  of  the  victor.  One  glance,  in  the  confusion 
and  terror  of  the  moment,  Braxley  gave  to  his  extraordinary 
foe;  and  then  the  mantles  piled  upon  his  body  concealed 
all  objects  from  his  eyes. 

In  the  mean  while,  Edith,  not  less  confounded,  sat 
cowering  with  terror,  until  the  victor,  having  completed 
his  task,  sprang  to  her  side — a  movement,  however,  that 
only  increased  her  dismay — crying  with  warning  gestures, 
"Fear  not  and  speak  not ;  up  and  away  I"  when,  perceiving 
she  recoiled  from  him  with  all  her  feeble  strength,  and  was 
indeed  unable  to  rise,  he  caught  her  in  his  arms,  muttering, 
"Thee  is  safe — thee  friends  is  nigh !"  and  bore  her  swiftly, 
yet  noiselessly,  from  the  tent. 


314  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Pent  to  linger 

But  with  a  grain  a  day,  I  would  not  buy 
Their  mercy  at  the  price  of  one  fair  word. 

— Coriolanus. 

THE  night  was  even  darker  than  before;  the  fire  of  the 
Wyandots  on  the  square  had  burned  so  low  as  no  longer 
to  send  even  a  ray  to  the  hut  of  Wenonga,  and  the  wind, 
though  subsiding,  still  kept  up  a  sufficient  din  to  drown 
the  ordinary  sound  of  footsteps.  Under  such  favorable 
circumstances,  Nathan  (for,  as  may  be  supposed,  it  was 
this  faithful  friend  who  had  snatched  the  forlorn  Edith 
from  the  grasp  of  the  betrayer)  stalked  boldly  from  the 
hut,  bearing  the  rescued  maiden  in  his  arms,  and  little 
doubting  that,  having  thus  so  successfully  accomplished 
the  first  and  the  greatest  step  in  the  enterprise,  he  could 
now  conclude  it  in  safety,  if  not  with  ease. 

But  there  were  perils  yet  to  be  encountered  which  the 
man  of  peace  had  not  taken  into  anticipation,  and  which, 
indeed,  would  not  have  existed,  had  his  foreboding  doubts 
of  the  propriety  of  admitting  either  of  his  associates,  and 
honest  Stackpole  especially,  to  a  share  of  the  exploit,  been 
suffered  to  influence  his  counsels  to  the  exclusion  of  that 
worthy  but  unlucky  personage  altogether.  He  had  scarce 
stepped  from  the  tent-door  before  there  arose  on  the  sud- 
den, and  at  no  great  distance  from  the  square  over  which 
he  was  hurrying  his  precious  burthen,  a  horrible  din — a 
stamping,  snorting,  galloping,  and  neighing  of  horses,  as 
if  a  dozen  famished  bears  or  wolves  had  suddenly  made 
their  way  into  the  Indian  pinfold,  carrying  death  and 
distraction  into  the  whole  herd.  And  this  alarming  omen 
was  almost  instantly  followed  by  an  increase  of  all  the  up- 
roar, as  if  the  animals  had  broken  loose  from  the  pound, 
and  were  rushing,  mad  with  terror,  towards  the  centre  of 
the  village. 

At  the  first  outbreak  of  the  tumult,  Nathan  had  dropped 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

immediately  into  the  bushes  before  the  wigwam;  but  per- 
ceiving that  the  sounds  increased,  and  were  actually  draw- 
ing nigh,  and  that  the  sleepers  were  waking  on  the  square, 
he  sprang  again  to  his  feet,  and,  flinging  his  blanket 
around  Edith,  who  was  yet  incapable  of  aiding  herself, 
resolved  to  make  a  bold  effort  to  escape  while  darkness  and 
the  confusion  of  the  enemy  permitted.  There  was,  in 
''truth,  not  a  moment  to  be  lost.  The  slumbers  of  the  bar- 
'barians,  proverbially  light  at  all  times,  and  readily  broken, 
even  when  the  stupor  of  drunkenness  has  steeped  their 
faculties,  were  not  proof  against  sounds  at  once  so  unusual 
and  so  uproarious.  A  sudden  yell  of  surprise,  bursting 
from  one  point,  was  echoed  by  another  and  another  voice, 
and  in  a  moment  the  square  resounded  with  these  signals 
of  alarm,  added  to  the  wilder  screams  which  some  of  them 
set  up,  of  "Long-knives !  long-knives  \"  as  if  the  savages 
supposed  themselves  suddenly  beset  by  a  whole  army  of 
charging  Kentuckians. 

It  was  at  this  moment  of  dismay  and  confusion  that 
Nathan  rose  from  the  earth,  and,  all  other  paths  being 
now  cut  off,  darted  across  a  corner  of  the  square  towards 
the  river,  which  was  in  a  quarter  opposite  to  that  whence 
the  sounds  came,  in  hopes  to  reach  the  alder-thicket  on  its 
banks  before  being  observed.  And  this,  perhaps,  he  would 
have  succeeded  in  reaching,  had  not  fortune,  which  seemed 
this  night  to  give  a  loose  rein  to  all  her  fickleness,  prepared 
a  new  and  greater  difficulty. 

As  he  rose  from  the  bushes,  some  savage,  possessed  of 
greater  presence  of  mind  than  his  fellows,  cast  a  decaying 
brand  from  the  fire  into  the  heap  of  dried  grass  and  maize- 
husks,  designed  for  their  couches,  which,  bursting  imme- 
diately into  a  furious  flame,  illuminated  the  whole  square 
and  village,  and  revealed,  as  it  was  designed  to  do,  the- 
cause  of  the  wondrous  uproar.  A  dozen  or  more  horses 
were  instantly  seen  galloping  into  the  square,  followed  by 
a  larger  and  denser  herd  behind,  all  agitated  by  terror,  all 
plunging,  rearing,  prancing,  and  kicking,  as  if  possessed 
by  a  legion  of  evil  spirits,  though  driven,  as  wag  made 


316  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

apparent  by  the  yells  which  the  Indians  set  up  on  seeing 
him,  by  nothing  more  than  the  agency  of  a  human  being. 

At  the  first  flash  of  the  flames  seizing  upon  the  huge 
bed  of  straw,  and  whirling  up  in  the  gust  in  a  prodigious 
volume,  Nathan  gave  up  all  for  lost,  not  doubting  that  he 
would  be  instantly  seen  and  assailed.  But  the  spectacle 
of  their  horses  dashing  madly  into  the  square,  with  the 
cause  of  the  tumult  seen  struggling  among  them,  in  the 
apparition  of  a  white  man  sitting  aloft  entangled  inextric- 
ably in  the  thickest  of  the  herd,  and  evidently  borne  for- 
ward with  no  consent  of  his  own,  was  metal  more  attrac- 
tive for  Indian  eyes;  and  Nathan  perceived  that  he  was 
not  only  neglected  in  the  confusion  by  all,  but  was  likely  to 
remain  so  long  enough  to  enable  him  to  put  the  thicket  be- 
twixt him  and  the  danger  of  discovery. 

"The  knave  has  endangered  us,  and  to  the  value  of  the 
scalp  on  his  own  foolish  head,"  muttered  Nathan,  his  indig- 
nation speaking  in  a  voice  louder  than  a  whisper:  "but, 
truly,  he  will  pay  the  price;  and,  truly,  his  loss  is  the 
maiden's  redeeming !" 

He  darted  forwards  as  he  spoke;  but  his  words  had 
reached  the  ears  of  one,  who,  cowering  like  himself  among 
the  weeds  around  Wenonga's  hut,  now  started  suddenly 
forth,  and  displayed  to  his  eyes  the  young  Virginian,  who, 
rushing  eagerly  up,  clasped  the  rescued  captive  in  his  arms, 
crying, — "Forward  now,  for  the  love  of  heaven!  forward, 
forward !" 

"Thee  has  ruined  all !"  cried  Nathan,  with  bitter  re- 
proach, as  Edith,  rousing  from  insensibility  at  the  well- 
known  voice,  opened  her  eyes  upon  her  kinsman,  and  all 
unmindful  of  the  place  of  meeting,  unconscious  of  every 
thing  but  his  presence, — the  presence  of  him  whose  sup- 
posed death  she  had  so  long  lamented, — sprang  to  his  em- 
brace with  a  cry  of  joy  that  was  heard  over  the  whole 
square,  a  tone  of  happiness,  pealing  above  the  rush  of  the 
winds  and  the  uproar  of  men  and  animals.  "Thee  has 
ruined  all! — theeself  and  the  maid!  Save  thee  own  life." 

With  these  words,  Nathan  strove  to  tear  Edith  from  his 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  817 

grasp,  to  make  one  more  effort  for  her  rescue ;  and  Koland, 
yielding  her  to  his  superior  strength,  and  perceiving  that  a 
dozen  Indians  were  running  against  them,,  drew  his  toma- 
hawk, and,  with  a  self-devotion  which  marked  his  love,  his 
consciousness  of  error,  and  his  heroism  of  character,  waved 
Nathan  away,  while  he  himself  rushed  back  upon  the  pur- 
suers, not  so  much,  however,  in  the  vain  hope  of  disputing 
the  path,  as,  by  laying  down  his  life  on  the  spot,  to  pur- 
chase one  more  hope  of  escape  to  his  Edith. 

The  act,  so  unexpectedly,  so  audaciously  bold,  drew  a 
shout  of  admiration  from  the  throats  which  had  before 
only  uttered  yells  of  fury;  but  it  was  mingled  with  fierce 
laughter,  as  the  savages,  without  hesitating  at,  or  indeed 
seeming  at  all  to  regard,  his  menacing  position,  ran  upon 
him  in  a  body,  and  avoiding  the  only  blow  they  gave  him 
the  power  to  make,  seized  and  disarmed  him — a  result  that, 
notwithstanding  his  fierce  and  furious  struggles,  was  ef- 
fected in  less  space  than  we  have  taken  to  describe  it. 
Then  leaving  him  in  the  hands  of  two  of  their  number, 
who  proceeded  to  bind  him  securely,  the  others  rushed  after 
Nathan,  who,  though  encumbered  by  his  burthen,  again 
inanimate,  her  arms  clasped  around  his  neck,  as  they  had 
been  round  that  of  her  kinsman,  made  the  most  desperate 
exertions  to  be  off,  seeming  to  regard  her  weight  no  more 
than  if  the  burthen  had  been  a  cushion  of  thistle-down. 
He  ran  for  a  moment  with  astonishing  activity,  leaping 
over  bush  and  gully,  where  such  crossed  his  path,  with 
such  prodigious  strength  and  suppleness  of  frame,  as  to  the 
savages  appeared  little  short  of  miraculous ;  and  it  is  more 
than  probable  he  might  have  effected  his  escape  had  he 
chosen  to  abandon  the  helpless  Edith.  As  it  was,  he  for 
a  time  bade  fair  to  make  his  retreat  good.  He  reached 
the  low  thicket  that  fringed  the  river,  and  one  more  step 
would  have  found  him  in  at  least  temporary  security. 

But  that  step  was  never  to  be  taken.  As  he  ap- 
proached, two  tall  barbarians  suddenly  sprang  from  the 
cover,  where  they  had  been  taking  their  drunken  slum- 
bers; and  responding  with  exulting  whoops  to  the  cries 


318  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

of  the  others,,  they  leaped  forward  to  secure  him.  But  he 
turned  aside,  running  downwards  to  where  a  lonely  wig- 
wam, surrounded  by  trees,  offered  the  concealment  of  its 
shadow.  But  he  turned  too  late !  a  dozen  fierce  wolf-like 
dogs,  rushing  from  the  cabin,  and  emboldened  by  the  cries 
of  the  pursuers,  rushed  upon  him,  hanging  to  his  skirts, 
and  entangled  his  legs,  rending  and  tearing  all  the  while, 
so  that  he  could  fly  no  longer.  The  Indians  were  at  his 
heels;  their  shouts  were  in  his  ears;  their  hands  were 
almost  upon  his  shoulders,  he  stopped,  and  turning  towards 
them,  with  a  gesture  and  look  of  desperate  defiance,  and 
still  more  desperate  hatred,  exclaimed — "Here,  devils !  cut 
and  hack !  your  time  has  come,  and  I  am  the  last  of  them !" 
And  holding  Edith  at  the  length  of  his  arm,  he  pulled  open 
his  garment,  as  if  to  invite  the  death-stroke. 

But  his  death,  at  least  at  that  moment,  was  not  sought 
after  by  the  Indians.  They  seized  him,  and,  Edith  being 
torn  from  his  hands,  dragged  him,  with  endless  whoops, 
towards  the  fire,  whither  they  had  previously  borne  the  cap- 
tured Eoland,  over  whom,  as  over  himself,  they  yelled 
their  triumph;  while  screams  of  rage  from  those  who  had 
dashed  among  the  horses  after  the  daring  white  man,  who 
had  been  seen  among  them,  and  the  confusion  that  still 
prevailed,  showed  that  lie  also  had  fallen  into  their  hands. 

The  words  of  defiance  which  Nathan  breathed  at  the 
moment  of  yielding  were  the  last  he  uttered.  Submitting 
passively  to  his  fate,  he  was  dragged  onwards  by  a  dozen 
hands,  a  dozen  voices  around  him  vociferating  their  sur- 
prise at  his  appearance  even  more  energetically  than  the 
joy  of  their  triumph.  His  Indian  habiliments  and  painted 
body  evidently  struck  them  with  astonishment,  which  in- 
creased as  they  drew  nearer  the  fire,  and  could  better  dis- 
tinguish the  extraordinary  devices  he  had  traced  so  care- 
fully on  his  breast  and  visage.  Their  looks  of  inquiry, 
their  questions,  jabbered  freely  in  broken  English  as  well 
as  in  their  own  tongue,  Nathan  regarded  no  more  than 
their  taunts  and  menaces,  replying  to  these,  as  to  all,  only 
With  a  wild  and  haggard  stare,  wluqh  Wffc^4  to  awe 


NICK   OF   THE    WOODS.  319 

of  the  younger  warriors,  who  began  to  exchange  looks  of 
peculiar  meaning.  At  last,  as  they  drew  nearer  the  fire, 
an  old  Indian  staggered  among  the  group,  who  made  way 
for  him  with  a  kind  of  respect,  as  was,  indeed,  his  due — 
for  he  was  no  other  than  the  old  Black  Vulture  himself. 
Limping  up  to  the  prisoner,  with  as  much  ferocity  as  his 
drunkenness  would  permit,  he  laid  one  hand  upon  his 
shoulder,  and  with  the  other  aimed  a  furious  hatchet-blow 
at  his  head.  The  blow  was  arrested  by  the  renegade,  Doe, 
or  Atkinson,  who  made  his  appearance  at  the  same  time 
with  Wenonga,  and  muttered  some  words  in  the  Shawnee 
tongue,  which  seemed  meant  to  soothe  the  old  man's  fury. 

"Me  Injun-man!"  said  the  chief,  addressing  his  words 
to  the  prisoner,  and  therefore  in  the  prisoner's  language — 
'Me  kill  all  white  man!  Me  Wenonga;  me  drink  white 
man  blood !  me  no  heart !" 

And  to  impress  the  truth  of  his  words  on  the  prisoner's 
mind,  he  laid  his  right  hand,  from  which  the  axe  had  been 
removed,  as  well  as  his  left,  on  Nathan's  shoulder,  in  which 
position  supporting  himself,  he  nodded  and  wagged  his 
head  in  the  other's  face,  with  as  savage  a  look  of  malice  as 
he  could  infuse  into  his  drunken  features.  To  this  the 
prisoner  replied  by  bending  upon  the  chief  a  look  more 
hideous  than  his  own,  and  indeed  so  strangely  unnatural 
and  revolting,  with  lips  so  retracted,  features  so  distorted 
by  some  nameless  passion,  and  eyes  gleaming  with  fires  so 
wild  and  unearthly,  that  even  Wenonga,  chief  as  he  was, 
and  then  in  no  condition  to  be  daunted  by  any  thing,  drew 
slowly  back,  removing  his  hands  from  the  prisoner's  shoul- 
der, who  immediately  fell  down  in  horrible  convulsions, 
the  foam  flying  from  his  lips,  and  his  fingers  clenching 
like  spikes  of  iron  into  the  flesh  of  two  Indians  that  had 
hold  of  him. 

Taunts,  questions,  and  whoops  were  heard  no  more 
among  the  captors,  who  drew  aside  from  their  wretched 
prisoner,  as  if  from  the  darkest  of  their  Manitoes,  all  look- 
ing on  with  unconcealed  wonder  and  awe.  The  only  per- 
son, indeed,  who  seemed  undismayed  at  the  spectacle,  was 


320  NICK    OF    THE   WOODS. 

the  renegade,  who,  as  Nathan  shook  and  writhed  in  the  fit, 
beheld  the  corner  of  a  piece  of  parchment  projecting  from 
the  bosom  of  his  shirt,  and  looking  vastly  like  that  identical 
instrument  he  had  seen  but  an  hour  or  two  before  in  the 
hands  of  Braxley.  Stooping  down,  and  making  as  if  he 
would  have  raised  the  convulsed  man  in  his  arms,  he  drew 
the  parchment  from  its  hiding  place,  and,  unobserved  by 
the  Indians,  transferred  it  to  a  secret  place  in  his  own 
garments.  He  then  rose  up,  and  stood  like  the  rest,  look- 
ing upon  the  prisoner,  until  the  fit  had  passed  off,  which 
it  did  in  but  a  few  moments,  Nathan  starting  to  his  feet, 
and  looking  around  him  in  the  greatest  wildness,  as  if, 
for  a  moment,  not  only  unconscious  of  what  had  befallen 
him,  but  even  of  his  captivity. 

But  unconsciousness  of  the  latter  calamity  was  of  no 
great  duration,  and  was  dispelled  by  the  old  chief  saying, 
but  with  looks  of  drunken  respect,  that  had  succeeded  his 
insane  fury — "My  brudder  great  medicine  white-man  !  great 
white  man  medicine!  Me  Wenonga,  great  Injun  captain, 
great  kill-man-white-man,  kill-all-man,  man-man,  squaw- 
man,  little  papoose-man !  Me  make  medicine-man  brudder 
man!  Medicine-man  tell  Wenonga  all  Jibbenainosay ? 
— where  find  Jibbenainosay?  how  kill  Jibbenainosay?  kill 
white-man's  devil-man !  Medicine-man  tell  Injun-man 
why  medicine-man  come  Injun  town?  steal  Injun  pris- 
oner? steal  Injun  hoss?  Me  Wenonga — me  good  brudder 
medicine-man." 

This  gibberish,  with  which  he  seemed,  besides  express- 
ing much  new-born  good-will,  to  intimate  that  its  cause 
lay  in  the  belief  that  the  prisoner  was  a  great  white  con- 
jurer, who  could  help  him  to  a  solution  of  sundry  interest- 
ing questions,  the  old  chief  pronounced  with  much  solemn- 
ity and  suavity ;  and  he  betrayed  an  inclination  to  continue 
it,  the  captors  of  Nathan  standing  by  and  looking  on  with 
vast  and  eager  interest. 

But  a  sudden  and  startling  yell  from  the  Indians  who 
had  charge  of  the  young  Virginian,  preceded  by  an  ex- 
clamation from  the  renegade  who  had  stolen  among  them, 


NICK   OP   THE    WOODS.  321 

upset  the  curiosity  of  the  party — or  rather  substituted  a 
new  object  for  admiration,  which  set  them  all  running  to- 
wards the  fire,  where  Eoland  lay  bound.  The  cause  of  the 
excitement  was  nothing  less  than  the  discovery  which  Doe 
had  just  made,  of  the  identity  of  the  prisoner  with  Eoland 
Forrester,  whom  he  had  with  his  own  hands  delivered  into 
those  of  the  merciless  Piankeshaws,  and  whose  escape  from 
them,  and  sudden  appearance  in  the  Shawnee  village,  were 
events  just  as  wonderful  to  the  savages  as  the  supposed 
powers  of  the  white  medicine-man,  his  associate. 

But  there  was  still  a  third  prodigy  to  be  wondered  at. 
The  third  prisoner  was  dragged  from  among  the  horses  to 
the  fire,  where  he  was  almost  immediately  recognized  by 
half-a-dozen  different  warriors,  as  the  redoubted  and  in- 
corrigible horse-thief  Captain  Stackpole.  The  wonderful 
conjurer,  and  the  wonderful  young  Long-knife,  who  was 
one  moment  a  captive  in  the  hands  of  Piankeshaws  on 
the  banks  of  the  Wabash,  and  the  next  an  invader  of  a 
Shawnee  village  in  the  valley  of  the  Miami,  were  both  for- 
gotten ;  the  captain  of  horse-thieves  was  a  much  more  won- 
derful person,  or,  at  the  least,  a  much  more  important  prize. 
His  name  was  howled  aloud,  and  in  a  moment  became  the 
theme  of  every  tongue ;  and  he  was  instantly  surrounded  by 
every  man  in  the  village — we  may  say,  every  woman  and 
child,  too,  for  the  alarm  had  brought  the  whole  village 
into  the  square;  and  the  shrieks  of  triumph,  the  yells  of 
unfeigned  delight  with  which  all  welcomed  a  prisoner  so 
renowned  and  so  detested,  produced  an  uproar  ten  times 
greater  than  that  which  gave  the  alarm. 

It  was  indeed  Stackpole,  the  zealous  and  unlucky  slave 
of  a  mistress,  whom  it  was  his  fate  to  injure  and  wrong  in 
every  attempt  he  made  to  serve  her ;  and  who  had  brought 
himself  and  his  associates  to  their  present  bonds  by  merely 
tolling  on  the  present  occasion  too  hard  in  her  service. 
It  seems — for  so  he  was  used  himself  to  tell  the  tale — 
that  he  entered  the  Indian  pound  with  the  resolution  to 
fulfil  Bloody  Nathan's  instructions  to  the  letter;  and  he 
accordingly  selected  four  of  the  best  animals  of  the  herd, 


NICK   OF    THE    WOODS. 

which  he  succeeded  in  haltering  without  difficulty  or  noise. 
Had  he  paused  here,  he  might  have  retreated  with  his 
prizes  without  fear  of  discovery.  But  the  excellence  of 
the  opportunity — the  best  he  had  ever  had  in  his  life — the 
excellence,  too,  of  the  horses,  thirty  or  forty  in  number, 
"the  primest  and  beautifullest  critturs,"  he  averred,  "what 
war  ever  seed  in  a  hoss-pound,"  with  a  notion  which  now 
suddenly  beset  his  grateful  brain,  namely,  that  by  carrying 
off  the  whole  herd  he  could  "make  anngelliferous  madam 
rich  in  the  item  of  hoss-flesh,"  proved  too  much  for  his 
philosophy  and  his  judgment ;  and  after  holding  a  council 
of  war  in  his  own  mind,  he  came  to  a  resolution  "to  steal 
the  lot." 

This  being  determined  upon,  he  imitated  the  example  of 
magnanimity  lately  set  him  by  Nathan,  stripped  off  and 
converted  his  venerable  wrap-rascal  into  extemporary  hal- 
ters, and  so  made  sure  of  half-a-dozen  more  of  the  best 
horses ;  with  which,  and  the  four  first  selected,  not  doubting 
that  the  remainder  of  the  herd  would  readily  follow  at  their 
heels,  he  crept  from  the  fold,  to  make  his  way  up  the  val- 
ley, and  round  among  the  hills,  to  the  rendezvous.  But 
that  was  a  direction  in  which,  as  he  soon  learned  to  his 
cost,  neither  the  horses  he  had  in  hand,  nor  those  that 
were  to  follow  in  freedom,  had  the  slightest  inclination  to 
go;  and  there  immediately  ensued  a  struggle  between  the 
stealer  and  the  stolen,  which,  in  the  space  of  a  minute  or 
less,  resulted  in  the  whole  herd  making  a  demonstration 
towards  the  centre  of  the  village,  whither  they  succeeded 
both  in  carrying  themselves  and  the  vainly  resisting  horse- 
thief,  who  was  borne  along  on  the  backs  of  those  he  had, 
haltered,  like  a  land-bird  on  the  bosom  of  a  torrent,  inca- 
pable alike  of  resisting  or  escaping  the  flood. 

In  this  manner,  he  was  taken  in  a  trap  of  his  own  mak- 
ing, as  many  a  better  and  wiser  man  of  the  world  has  been, 
and  daily  is;  and  it  was  no  amelioration  of  his  distress  t« 
think  he  had  whelmed  his  associates  in  his  ruin,  and  de- 
feated the  best  and  last  hopes  of  his  benefactress.  It  was 
with  such  feelings  at  his  heart  that  he  was  dragged  up  to 


NICK   OF    THE    WOODS. 

the  fire,  to  be  exulted  over  and  scolded  at  as  long  as  it 
should  seem  good  to  his  captors.  But  the  latter,  exhausted 
by  the  day's  revels,  and  satisfied  with  their  victory,  so  com- 
plete and  so  bloodless,  soon  gave  over  tormenting  him, 
resolving,  however,  that  he  should  be  soundly  beaten  at 
the  gantelope  on  the  morrow,  for  the  especial  gratification, 
and  in  honor  of  the  Wyandot  party,  their  guests. 

This  resolution  being  made,  he  was,  like  Roland  and 
Nathan,  led  away  bound,  each  being  bestowed  in  a  different 
hut,  where  they  were  committed  to  safer  guards  than  had 
been  appointed  to  watch  over  Edith ;  and,  in  an  hour  after, 
the  village  was  again  wrapped  in  repose.  The  last  to  be- 
take themselves  to  their  rest  were  Doe,  and  his  confederate, 
Braxley,  the  latter  of  whom  had  been  released  from  his  dis- 
agreable  bonds  when  Edith  was  carried  back  to  the  tent. 
It  was  while  following  Doe  to  his  cabin,  that  he  discovered 
the  loss  of  the  precious  document,  upon  the  possession  of 
which  he  had  built  so  many  stratagems  and  so  many  hopes 
of  success.  His  agitation  and  confusion  were  so  great  at 
the  time  of  Nathan's  assault,  that  he  was  wholly  unaware 
it  had  been  taken  from  him  by  this  assailant;  and  Doe,  to 
whom  its  possession  opened  newer  and  bolder  prospects,  and 
who  had  already  formed  a  design  for  using  it  to  his  own 
advantage,  affected  to  believe  that  he  had  dropped  it  on 
the  way,  and  would  easily  recover  it  on  the  morrow,  as  no 
Indian  could  possibly  attach  the  least  value  to  it. 

Another  subject  of  agitation  to  Braxley  was  the  re-ap- 
pearance of  his  rival;  who,  however,  Doe  assured  him,  was 
"now  as  certainly  a  dead  man  as  if  twenty  bullets  had  been 
driven  through  his  body.  He  is  in  the  hands  of  the  Old 
Vulture,"  said  he  grimly,  "and  he  will  burn  in  fire  jist  as« 
sure  as  we  will,  Dick  Braxley,  when  the  devil  gits  us! — 
that  is,  unless  we  ourselves  save  him." 

"We,  Jack !"  said  the  other  with  a  laugh ;  "and  yet  who 
knows  how  the  wind  may  blow  you?  But  an  hour  ago 
you  were  as  remorseful  over  the  lad's  supposed  death,  as 
you  are  now  apparently  indifferent  what  befalls  him." 

"It  is  true,"  replied  Doe,  coolly ;  "but  see  the  difference ! 


324  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

When  the  Piankeshaws  were  burning  him— or  when  I 
thought  the  dogs  were  at  it — it  was  a  death  of  my  making 
for  him ;  it  was  I  that  helped  him  to  the  stake.  But  here 
the  case  is  altered.  He  comes  here  on  his  own  hook;  the 
Injuns  catch  him  on  his  own  hook;  and,  d — n  them! 
they'll  burn  him  on  his  own  hook !  and  so  it's  no  matter 
of  my  consarning.  There's  the  root  of  it." 

This  explanation  satisfied  his  suspicious  ally ;  and  having 
conversed  awhile  longer  on  what  appeared  to  them  most 
wonderful  and  interesting  in  the  singular  attempt  at  the 
rescue,  the  two  retired  to  their  repose. 


CHAPTEK  XXXII. 

Let  him  call  me  rogue  for  being  so  far  officious;  for  I  am 
proof  against  that  title,  and  what  shame  else  belongs  to  it. 

— Winter's  Tale. 

THE  following  day  was  one  of  unusual  animation  and 
bustle  in  the  Indian  village,  as  the  prisoners  could  dis- 
tinguish even  from  their  several  places  of  confinement, 
without,  however,  being  sensible  of  the  cause.  From  sun- 
rise until  after  midday,  they  heard,  at  intervals,  volleys  of 
fire-arms  shot  off  at  the  skirts  of  the  town,  which,  being 
followed  by  shrill  halloos  as  from  those  that  fired  them, 
were  immediately  re-echoed  by  all  the  throats  in  the  vil- 
lage— men,  women,  children,  and  dogs  uniting  in  a  clamor 
that  was  plainly  the  outpouring  of  savage  exultation  and 
delight.  It  seemed  as  if  parties  of  warriors,  returning 
victorious  from  the  lands  of  the  Long-knife,  were  time  by 
time  marching  into,  and  through  the  village,  proclaiming 
the  success  of  their  arms,  and  exhibiting  the  bloody  trophies 
of  their  triumph.  The  hubbub  increased,  the  shouts  be- 
came more  frequent  and  multitudinous,  and  the  village  for 
a  second  time  seemed  given  up  to  the  wildest  and  maddest 
revelry,  to  the  sway  of  unchained  demons,  or  of  men  aban- 
doned to  all  the  horrible  impulses  of  lycanthropy. 


NICK   OF   THE    WOODS. 

During  all  this  time,  the  young  Virginian  lay  bound  in 
a  wigwam,  guarded  by  a  brace  of  old  warriors,  who  occa- 
sionally varied  the  tedium  of  watching  by  stalking  to  the 
door,  where,  like  yelping  curs  paying  their  respects  to 
passers-by,  they  uplifted  their  voices,  and  vented  a  yell  or 
two  in  testimony  of  their  approbation  of  what  was  going 
on  without.  Now  and  then,  also,  they  even  left  the  wig- 
wam, but  never  for  more  than  a  few  moments  at  a  time; 
when,  having  thus  amused  themselves,  they  would  return, 
squat  themselves  down  by  the  prisoner's  side,  and  proceed 
to  entertain  him  with  sundry  long-winded  speeches  in 
their  own  dialect,  of  which,  of  course,  he  understood  not 
a  word. 

Wrapped  in  his  own  bitter  thoughts,  baffled  in  his  last 
hope,  and  now  grown  indifferent  what  might  befall  him,  he 
lay  upon  the  earthen  floor  during  the  whole  day,  expect- 
ing almost  every  moment  to  behold  some  of  the  shouting 
crew  of  the  village  rush  into  the  hovel  and  drag  him  to  the 
tortures,  which,  at  that  period,  were  so  often  the  doom  of 
the  prisoner. 

But  the  solitude  of  his  prison-house  was  invaded  only  by 
his  two  old  jailers ;  and  it  was  not  until  nightfall  that  he 
beheld  a  third  human  countenance.  At  that  period  Telie 
Doe  stole  trembling  into  the  hut,  bringing  him  food,  which 
she  set  before  him,  but  with  looks  of  deep  grief  and  deeper 
abasement,  which  he  might  have  attributed  to  shame  and 
remorse  for  a  part  played  in  the  scheme  of  captivity,  had 
not  all  her  actions  shown  that,  although  acquainted  with 
the  meditated  outrage,  she  was  sincerely  desirous  to  avert 
it, 

Her  appearance  awakened  his  dormant  spirits,  and  re- 
called the  memory  of  his  kinswoman,  of  whom  he  besought 
her  to  speak,  though  well  aware  she  could  speak  neither 
hope  nor  comfort.  But  scarce  had  Telie,  more  abashed 
and  more  sorrowful  at  the  question,  opened  her  lips  to 
reply,  when  one  of  the  old  Indians  interposed  with  a 
frown  of  displeasure,  and  taking  her  by  the  arm,  led  her 
angrily  to  the  door,  where  he  waved  her  away,  with  gee- 


320  KICK   OF    THE   WOODS. 

tures  that  seemed  to  threaten  a  worse  reception  should  she 
presume  to  return. 

Thus  thwarted  and  driven  back  again  upon  his  own 
reflections,  Roland  gave  himself  up  to  despondency,  await- 
ing with  sullen  indifference  the  fate  which  he  had  no  doubt 
was  preparing  for  him.  But  he  was  doomed  once  more 
to  experience  the  agitations  of  hope,  the  tormentor  not  less 
than  the  soother  of  existence — the 


"Brother  of  Fear,  more  gayly  clad, 
The  merrier  fool  o'  th*  two  yet  quite  as  mad." 

Soon  after  nightfall,  and  when  his  mind  was  in  a  con- 
dition resembling  the  hovel  in  which  he  lay — a  cheerless 
ruin,  lighted  only  by  occasional  flickerings  from  a  fire  of 
spirit  fast  smouldering  into  ashes — he  heard  a  step  enter 
the  door,  and  by  and  by  a  jabbering  debate  commenced  be- 
tween the  new  comer  and  his  guards,  which  resulted  in 
the  latter  presently  leaving  the  cabin.  The  intruder  then 
stepped  up  to  the  fire,  which  he  stirred  into  a  flame;  and 
seating  himself  Ml  in  its  light,  revealed,  somewhat  to 
Roland's  surprise-,  the  form  and  visage  of  the  renegade, 
A.bel  Doe,  whose  acts  on  the  hillside  had  sufficiently  im- 
pressed his  liniments  on  the  soldier's  memory.  He  eyed 
the  captive  fov  awhile  very  earnestly,  but  in  deep  silence, 
which  Roland  himself  was  the  first  to  break. 

To  the  saldier,  however,  bent  upon  preserving  the  sullen 
equanimity  which  was  his  best  substitute  for  resignation, 
there  was  enough  in  the  appearance  of  this  man  to  excite 
the  fiercest  emotions  of  indignation.  Others  might  have 
planned  the  villainy  which  had  brought  ruin  and  misery 
upon  his  head ;  but  it  was  Doe  who,  for  the.  bravo's  price, 
and  with  the  bravo's  baseness,  had  set  the  toils  around  him, 
and  struck  the  blow.  It  was,  indeed,  only  through  the 
agency  of  such  an  accomplice  that  Braxley  could  have  put 
his  schemes  into  execution,  or  ventured  even  to  attempt 
them.  The  blood  boiled  in  his  veins,  as  he  surveyed  the 
mercenary  and  unprincipled  hireling,  and  strove,  though 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  *  327 

in  vain,  to  rise  upon  his  fettered  arms,  to  give  energy  to 
his  words  of  denunciation : — 

"Villain  I"  he  cried,  "base  caitiff !  have  you  come  to  boast 
the  fruits  of  your  rascally  crime?  Mean,  wretched,  das- 
tardly villain !" 

"Eight,  captain!"  replied  Doe,  with  a  consenting  nod 

of  the  head,  "you  have  nicked  me  on  the  right  p'int; 

villain's  the  true  word  to  begin  on;  and,  perhaps,  'twill 

'  be  the  one  to  end  on ;  but  that's  as  we  shall  conclude  about 

it,  after  we  have  talked  the  matter  over." 

"Begone,  wretch — trouble  me  not,"  said  Eoland,  "I 
have  nothing  to  say  to  you,  but  to  curse  you." 

"Well,  I  reckon  that's  natteral  enough,  too,  that  cussing 
of  me,"  said  Doe,  "seeing  as  how  I've  in  a  manner  de- 
sarved  it.  But  there's  an  end  to  all  things,  even  to  cuss- 
ing; and  may  be,  you'll  jist  take  a  jump  the  other  way, 
when  the  gall's  over.  A  friend  to-day,  an  enemy  to-mor- 
row, as  the  saying  is ;  and  you  may  just  as  well  say  it  back- 
wards; for,  as  things  turn  up,  I'm  no  sich  blasted  enemy 
just  now,  no-way  no-how.  Fm  for  holding  a  peace-talk,  as 
the  Injuns  say,d — n  'em,  burying  the  axe,  and  taking  a  whiff 
or  two  at  the  kinnikinick  of  friendship.  So  cuss  away,  if 
it  will  do  you  good;  and  I'll  stand  it.  But  as  for  being 
off,  why  I  don't  mean  it  no-way.  I've  got  a  bargain  to 
strike  with  you,  and  it  is  jist  a  matter  to  take  the  tiger- 
cat  out  of  you — it  is,  d — n  it;  and  when  you've  heard  it, 
you'll  be  in  no  sich  hurry  to  get  rid  of  me.  But  afore  we 
begin,  I've  jist  got  a  matter  to  ax  you;  and  that  is — how 
the  h —  you  cleared  the  old  Piankeshaw  and  his  young 
ims?" 

"If  you  have  any  thing  to  propose  to  me,"  said  Eoland, 
smothering  his  wrath  as  well  as  he  could,  though  scarcely 
hoping  assistance  or  comfort  of  any  kind  from  the  man  who 
had  done  him  such  injury,  "propose  it  and  be  brief,  and 
trouble  me  with  no  questions," 

"Well  now,"  said  Doe,  "a  civil  question  might  as  well 
have  a  civil  answer !  If  you  killed  the  old  feller  and  the 
young  una,  you  needn't  b§  ashamed  of  it;  for,  cuss  mee  I 


NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

think  all  the  better  of  you  for  it;  for  it's  not  every  feller 
can  kill  three  Injuns  that  has  him  in  the  tugs,  by  no  means, 
no-how.  But,  I  reckon,  the  ramscallions  took  to  the  liquor 
(Injuns  will  be  Injuns,  there  is  no  two  ways  about  it!) 
and  you  riz  on  'em,  and  so  payed  'em  up  scot  and  lot,  ac- 
cording to  their  desarvings?  You  couldn't  have  done  a 
better  thing  to  make  me  beholden ;  for,  you  see,  I  had  the 
giving  of  you  up  to  'em,  and  I  felt  bad— I  did,  d— n  me, 
for  I  knew  the  butchers  would  burn  you  if  they  got  you  to 
the  Wabash; — I  did,  captain,  and  I  had  bad  thoughts 
about  it.  But  it  was  a  cussed  mad  notion  of  you,  follow- 
ing us,  it  was,  there's  no  denying !  Howsomever,  I  won't 
talk  of  that.  I  jist  want  to  ax  you  where  you  picked  up 
that  Injun-looking  feller  that  was  lugging  off  the  gal,  and 
what's  his  natur'  ?  The  Injuns  say,  he's  a  conjurer ;  now 
I  never  heerd  of  conjurors  among  the  whites,  like  among 
the  Injuns,  afore  I  cut  loose  from  'em,  and  I'm  cur'ous  on 
the  subject!  I  jist  ax  you  a  civil  question,  and  I  don't 
mean  no  harm  in  it.  There's  nobody  can  make  the  feller 
out;  and,  as  for  Ealph  Stackpole,  blast  him,  he  says  he 
never  seed  the  crittur  afore  in  his  life !" 

"If  you  would  have  me  answer  your  question,"  said  Ro- 
land, in  whom  Doe's  discourse  was  beginning  to  stir  up 
many  a  former  feeling,  "you  must  first  answer  mine.  This 
person  you  speak  of — what  is  to  be  his  fate?" 

"Why,  burning,  I  reckon;  but  that's  according  as  he 
pleases  the  old  Vulture ;  for,  if  he  can  find  out  what  never 
an  Injun  medicine  has  been  able  to  do,  it  may  be  the  old 
chief  will  feed  him  up,  and  make  him  his  conjurer.  They 
say,  he's  conjuring  with  the  crittur  now." 

"And  Stackpole— what  will  they  do  with  him?" 

"Burn  him,  sartain !  They're  jist  waiting  till  the  war- 
riors come  in  from  the  Licking,  where,  you  must  know, 
they  have  taken  a  hundred  scalps,  or  so,  at  one  grab;  and 
then  the  feller  will  roast  beyond  all  mention." 

"And  I,  too,"  said  the  Virginian,  with  such  calmness  as 
he  coulcl, — "I,  too,  am  to  meet  the  same  fate?" 

"Most  ondoubtedly/'  said  Doe,  with  an  ominous  nod  of 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  329 

assent.  "There's  them  among  us  that  speak  well  of  you, 
as  having  heart  enough  to  made  an  Injun ;  but  there's  them 
that  have  sworn  you  shall  burn;  and  burn  you  must! — 
That  is,  onless—  But  he  was  interrupted  by  Koland 

exclaiming  hurriedly : — 

"There  is  but  one  more  to  speak  of — my  cousin?  my 
poor,  friendless  cousin?" 

"There,"  said  Doe,  "you  needn't  be  afeard  of  burning, 
by  no  means  whatsomever.  We  didn't  catch  the  gal  to 
make  a  roast  of.  She  is  safe  enough ;  there's  one  that  will 
care  take  of  her." 

"And  that  one  is  the  villain  Braxley!  Oh,  knave  that 
you  are,  could  you  have  the  heart, — you  have  a  daughter  of 
your  own — could  you  have  committed  her  into  the  arms 
of  such  a  villain?" 

"No,  by  G — ,  I  couldn't !"  said  Doe,  with  great  earnest- 
ness; "but  another  man's  daughter  is  quite  another  thing. 
Howsomever,  you  needn't  take  on  for  nothing;  for  he 
means  to  marry  her  and  take  her  safe  back  to  Virginny; 
and,  you  see,  I  bargained  with  him  agin  all  rascality;  for 
I  had  a  gal  of  my  own,  and  I  couldn't  think  of  his  playing 
foul  with  the  poor  crittur.  No;  we  had  an  understanding 
about  all  that  when  we  was  waiting  for  you  on  old  Salt. 
All  Dick  wants  is  jist  a  wife  that  will  help  him  to  them 
lands  of  the  old  major.  And  that,  you  see,  is  jist  the  whole 
reason  of  our  making  the  grab  on  you." 

"You  confess  it  then!"  cried  Roland,  too  much  excited 
by  the  bitterest  of  passions  to  be  surprised  at  the  singular 
communicativeness  of  his  visitor;  "you  sold  yourself  to 
the  villain  for  gold !  for  gold  you  hesitated  not  to  sacrifice 
the  happiness  of  one  victim  of  his  passions,  the  life  of 
another!  Oh,  basest  of  all  that  bear  the  name  of  man, 
how  could  you  do  this  villainy?" 

"Because,"  replied  Doe,  with  as  much  apparent  sincerity 
as  emphasis, — "because  I  am  a  d — d  rascal; — there's  no 
sort  of  doubt  about  it ;  and  we  won't  be  tender,  the  way  we 
talk  of  it.  I  was  an  honest  man  once,  captain,  but  I  am 
a  rascal  now; — warp  and  woof,  skin-deep  and  heart  deep — 


330  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

ay,  to  the  bones  and  the  marrow — I  am  all  the  way  a  rascal ! 
But  don't  look  as  if  you  was  astonished  already.  I  come 
to  make  a  clean  breast  of  all  sorts  of  matters, — jist,  captain, 
for  a  little  bit  of  your  advantage  and  my  own ;  and  there's 
things  coming  that  will  make  you  look  a  leetle  of  a  sight 
wilder!  And,  first  and  foremost,  to  begin — have  you  any 
particular  longing  to  be  out  of  this  here  Injun  town,  and 
well  shut  of  the  d— d  fire  torture?" 

"Have  I  any  desire  to  be  free  !     Mad  question  !" 

"Well,  captain,  I'm  jist  the  man,  and  the  only  one  that 
can  help  you;  for  them  that  would,  can't,  and  them  that 
can,  won't.  And,  secondly  and  lastly,  captain, — as  the 
parsons  say  in  the  settlements — have  you  any  hankering  to 
be  the  master  of  the  old  major  your  uncle's  lands  and 
houses?" 

"If  you  come  to  mock  and  torture  me,"  said  Roland — 
but  was  interrupted  by  the  renegade: — 

"It  is  jist  to  save  you  from  the  torture,"  said  he,  "that 
I'm  now  speaking;  for,  cuss  me,  the  more  I  think  of  it, 
the  more  I  can't  stand  it  no-how.  I'm  a  rascal,  captain, 
but  I'm  no  tiger-cat — especially  to  them  that  hasn't  mis- 
used me;  and  there's  the  grit  of  a  man  about  you,  that 
strikes  my  feelings  exactly.  But  you  see,  captain,  there's 
a  bargain  first  to  be  made  between  us,  afore  I  comes  up 
to  the  rack.  But  I'll  make  tarms  easy." 

"Make  them  what  you  will,  and But,  alas !  where 

shall  I  find  means  to  repay  you?  I  who  am  robbed  of 
every  thing  ?" 

"Didn't  I  say  I  could  help  you  to  the  major's  lands  and 
houses?  and  an't  they  a  fortun'  for  an  emperor?" 

"You!  you  help  me?  help  me  to  them?" 

"Captain,"  said  the  renegade,  with  sundry  emphatic  nods 
of  the  head,  "I'm  a  sight  more  of  a  rascal  than  you  ever 
dreamed  on !  and  this  snapping  of  you  up  by  Injun  deviltry, 
that  you  think  so  hard  of,  is  but  a  small  part  of  my  mis- 
doings ;  I've  been  slaving  agin  you  this  sixteen  years,  more 
or  less, — slaving  (that's  the  word,  for  I  made  a  niggur  of 
myself )  to  rob  you  of  these  here  very  lands  that  I'm 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  321 

thinking  of  helping  you  to !  You  don't  believe  me,  cap- 
tain? Well,  did  you  ever  hear  of  a  certain  honest  fellow 
of  old  Augusta,  called  John  Atkinson?" 

"Hah!"  cried  the  soldier,  looking  with  new  eyes  upon 
the  renegade;  "you  are  then  the  fellow  upon  whose  per- 
jured testimony  Braxley  relied  to  sustain  his  frauds?" 

"The  identical  same  man,  John  Atkinson — or  Jack,  as 
they  used  to  call  me;  but  now  Abel  Doe,  for  convenience' 
sake,"  said  the  refugee,  with  great  composure;  "and  so, 
now,  you  can  see  into  the  whole  matter.  It  was  me  that 
had  the  keeping  of  the  major's  daughter  that  you  knows 
of.  Well;  I  was  an  honest  feller  in  them  days, — I  was, 
captain,  by  G — !"  repeated  the  fellow  with  something  that 
sounded  like  remorseful  utterance,  "and  jist  as  contented 
in  my  cabin  on  the  mountain  as  the  old  major  himself  in 
his  big  house  at  Fellhallow.  But  Dick  Braxley  came, 
d — n  him,  and  there  was  an  end  of  all  honest  doings;  for 
Dick  was  high  with  the  old  major,  and  the  major  was  agin 
his  brothers;  and  says  Dick,  says  he,  Tut  but  this  little 
gal/ — meaning  the  major's  daughter — 'out  of  the  way,  and 
I'm  jist  as  good  as  the  major's  heir;  and  I'll  make  your 
f ortun '  " 

"Ay !  and  it  was  he  then,  the  villain  himself,"  cried  Ro- 
land, "who  devised  this  horrible  iniquity,  which,  by  in- 
nuendo at  least,  he  charged  upon  my  father!  You  are  a 
rascal,  indeed !  And  you  murdered  the  poor  child  ?" 

"Murdered !  No,  rat  it,  there  was  no  murdering  in  the 
case;  it  was  jist  hiding  in  a  hole,  as  you  may  call  it.  We 
burned  down  the  wigwam,  and  made  on  as  if  the  gal  was 
burned  in  it;  and  then  I  stumped  off  to  the  Injun  border, 
among  them  that  didn't  know  me,  and,  according  to  Dick's 
advice,  helped  myself  to  another  name,  and  jist  passed  off 
the  gal  for  my  own  daughter." 

"Your  own  daughter!"  cried  Roland,  starting  half  up, 
but  being  unable  to  rise  on  account  of  his  bonds;  "the 
story  then  is  true !  and  Telie  Doe  is  my  uncle's  child,  the 
lost  heiress  ?" 

"Well,  supposing  she  is?"  said  Atkinson,  "I  reckon 


332  NICK   OF    THE    WOODS. 

you'd  not  be  exactly  the  man  to  help  her  to  her  rights?" 

"Ay,  by  heaven,  but  I  would  though !"  said  Eoland,  "if 
rights  they  be.  If  my  uncle,  upon  knowledge  that  she  was 
still  alive,  thought  fit  to  alter  his  intentions  with  regard  to 
Edith  and  myself,  he  would  have  found  none  more  ready 
to  acknowledge  the  poor  girl's  claims  than  ourselves,  none 
more  ready  to  befriend  and  assist  her." 

"Well !  there's  all  the  difference  between  being  an  honest 
feller  and  a  rascal !"  muttered  Atkinson,  casting  his  eyes 
upon  the  fire,  which  he  fell  to  studying  for  a  moment  with 
great  earnestness.  Then,  starting  up  hastily,  and  turning 
to  the  prisoner,  he  exclaimed: — 

"There's  not  a  better  gal  in  the  etarnal  world !  You 
don't  know  it,  captain;  but  that  Telie,  that  poor  crittur 
that's  afeard  of  her  own  shadow,  did  run  all  risks,  and  play 
all  manner  of  fool's  tricks,  to  save  you  from  this  identical 
same  captivation;  and  the  night  you  was  sleeping  at 
Bruce's  fort,  and  we  waiting  for  you  at  the  ford,  she  cried, 
and  begged,  and  prayed  that  I  would  do  you  no  more  mis- 
chief;  and,  cuss  her,  she  threatened  to  tell  you  and  Bruce, 
there  the  whole  affair  of  the  ambush;  till  I  scarced  her 
with  my  tomahawk,  like  a  d — d  rascal  as  I  am  (but  there's 
nothing  will  fetch  her  round  but  fear  of  murdering),  and 
so  swore  her  to  keep  silence.  And  then,  captain,  her  run- 
ning away  after  you  in  the  woods — why  it  was  jist  to  cir- 
cumvent us — to  lead  you  to  the  t'other  old  road,  and  so  save 
you;  it  was,  captain,  and  she  owned  it;  and  if  you'd  V 
taken  to  her  leading,  as  she  axed  you,  she'd  'a'  got  you  out 
of  the  snarl  altogether.  Howsomever,  captain,"  he  con- 
tinued, after  making  those  admissions,  which  solved  all 
the  enigmas  of  Telie's  conduct ;  "I  won't  lie  in  this  matter 
no-how.  The  gal  is  no  gal  of  the  major's,  but  my  own 
flesh  and  blood;  the  major's  little  crittur  sickened  on  the 
border,  and  died  off  in  less  than  a  year ;  and  so  there  was 
all  our  rascally  burning  and  lying  for  nothing;  for,  if  we 
had  waited  awhile,  the  poor  thing  would  have  died  of  her 
own  accord. 

"Well,  captain,  I'm  making  a  long  story  about  nothing; 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  333 

but  the  short  of  it  is,  I  didn't  make  a  bit  of  a  fortun'  at 
all,  but  fell  into  troubles ;  and  the  end  was,  I  turned  Injun, 
jist  as  you  see  me ;  and  a  feller  there,  Tom  Bruce,  took  to 
my  little  gal  out  of  charity;  and  so  she  was  bred  up  a 
beggar's  brat,  with  every  body  a-jeering  of  her,  because  of 
her  d — d  rascally  father.  And  you  see,  this  made  a  wolf 
of  me ;  for  I  couldn't  bring  her  among  the  Injuns  to  marry 
her  to  a  cussed  nigger  of  a  savage, — no,  captain,  I  couldn't ; 
for  she's  my  own  natteral  flesh  and  blood,  and,  captain,  I 
love  her! 

"And  so,  I  goes  back  to  Virginny,  to  see  what  Braxley 
could  do  for  her ;  and  there,  d — n  him,  he  puts  me  up  to  a 
new  rascality;  which  was  nothing  less  than  setting  up  my 
gal  for  the  major's  daughter,  and  making  her  a  great  heir- 
ess, and  marrying  of  her.  Howsomever,  this  wouldn't  do, 
this  marrying;  for,  first,  Dick  Braxley  was  a  bigger  rascal 
than  myself,  and  it  was  agin  my  conscience  to  give  him 
the  gal,  who  was  a  good  gal,  desarving  of  an  honest  hus- 
band; and,  next,  the  feller  was  mad  after  young  madam, 
and  there  was  no  telling  how  soon  he  might  p'ison  my  gal 
to  marry  the  other.  And  so  we  couldn't  fix  the  thing  then 
to  our  liking;  no-way;  but  by  and  by  we  did.  For v when 
the  major  died,  he  sends  for  me  in  a  way  I  told  him  of; 
and  here's  jist  the  whole  of  our  rascality.  We  was,  in  the 
first  place,  jist  to  kill  you  off " 

"To  kill  me,  villain!"  cried  Roland,  whose  interest  was 
already  excited  to  the  highest  pitch  by  the  renegade's 
story. 

"Not  exactly  with  our  own  hands ;  for  I  bargained  agin 
that ;  but  it  was  agreed  you  should  be  put  out  of  the  way  of 
ever  returning  agin  to  Virginny.  Well,  captain,  Dick 
was  then  to  marry  the  young  lady;  and  then  jist  step  into 
the  major's  estate,  by  virtue  of  the  major's  will, — the  sec- 
ond one,  you  must  know,  which  Dick  took  good  care  to 
hide  away,  pretending  to  suppose  the  major  had  destroyed 
it." 

"And  that  will,"  exclaimed  Eoland,  "the  villain,  the  un- 
paralleled villain,  is  still  possessed  of?" 


334  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"No,  rat  him — the  devil  has  turned  upon  him  at  last, 
and  it  is  in  better  hands!"  said  Atkinson;  and  without 
more  ado,  he  drew  the  instrument  from  his  bosom,  and  un- 
folded it  before  Roland's  astonished  eyes.  "Read  it,"  said 
Doe,  with  exulting  voice:  "I  can  make  nothing  of  the 
cussed  pot-hooks  myself,  having  never  been  able  to  stand 
the  flogging  of  a  school-house ;  but  I  know  the  fixings  of  it 
— the  whole  estate  devised  equally  to  you  and  the  young 
woman,  to  be  divided  according  as  you  may  agree  of  your- 
selves— a  monstrous  silly  way,  that;  but  there's  no  help- 
ing it." 

And  holding  it  before  the  Virginian,  in  the  light  of  the 
fire,  the  latter  satisfied  himself  at  a  glance  that  Atkinson 
had  truly  reported  its  contents.  It  was  written  with  his 
uncle's  own  hand,  briefly  but  clearly;  and  while  manifest- 
ing throughout  the  greatest  affection  on  the  part  of  the 
testator  towards  his  orphan  niece,  it  contained  no  expres- 
sions indicative  either  of  ill-will  to  his  nephew,  or  dis- 
approbation of  the  part  the  young  man  had  chosen  to  play 
in  the  great  drama  of  revolution.  And  this  was  the  more 
remarkable,  as  it  was  dated  at  a  period  soon  after  Roland 
had  so  wilfully,  or  patriotically,  fled  to  fight  the  battles  of 
his  country,  and  when,  it  might  have  been  supposed,  the 
gtern  old  loyalist's  anger  was  at  its  acme.  A  better  and 
more  grateful  proof  that  the  young  man  had  neither  lost 
his  regard  nor  confidence,  was  shown  in  a  final  codicil, 
dated  in  the  year  of  Roland's  majority,  in  which  he  was 
associated  with  Braxley  as  executor,  the  latter  worthy 
having  been  made  to  figure  in  that  capacity  alone,  in  the 
body  of  the  will. 

"This  is  indeed  a  discovery!"  cried  Roland,  with  the 
agitation  of  joy  and  hope.  "Cut  my  bonds,  deliver  me, 
with  my  cousin  and  companions,  and  the  best  farm  in  the 
manor  shall  reward  you ;  nay,  you  shall  fix  your  own  terms 
for  your  daughter  and  yourself." 

"Exactly,"  said  Atkinson,  who,  although  the  prisoner 
was  carefully  bound,  exhibited  a  jealous  disinclination  to 
let  the  will  come  near  his  hands,  and  now  restored  it  care- 


NICK   OF   THE    WOODS.  335 

fully  to  his  own  bosom ;  "we  must  talk  over  that  matter  of 
tarms,  just  to  avoid  mistakes.  And  to  begin,  captain,  I 
will  jist  observe,  as  before,  that  if  you  don't  take  my  offer, 
and  close  with  me  hard  and  fast,  you  will  roast  at  an 
Injun's  stake  jist  as  sartainly  as  you  are  now  snugging  by 
an  Injun  fire;  you  will,  d — n  me,  there's  no  two  ways 
about  it!" 

"The  terms,  the  terms?"  cried  Eoland  eagerly;  "name 
them ;  I  will  not  dispute  them." 

But  the  renegade  was  in  no  such  hurry. 

"You  see,"  said  he,  "I'm  a  d — d  rascal,  as  I  said;  and 
in  this  matter,  I  am  jist  as  much  a  rascal  as  before,  for 
I'm  playing  foul  with  Braxley — having  bargained  to  work 
out  the  whole  thing  in  his  sarvice.  Howsomever,  there  is 
a  kind  of  fair  play  in  cheating  him,  seeing  it  was  him  that 
made  a  rascal  of  me.  And,  moresomever,  I  have  my  doubts 
of  him,  and  there's  no  way  I  can  hold  him  up  to  a  bargain. 
And,  lastly,  captain,  I  don't  see  how  he  can  be  of  any 
sarvice  to  my  gal !  He  can't  marry  her,  if  he  would ;  and 
if  he  could,  he  shouldn't  have  her ;  and  as  for  leaving  her  to 
his  tender  mercies,  I  would  jist  as  soon  think  of  hunting 
her  up  quarters  in  a  bear's  den.  And  as  for  keeping  her 
among  these  d — d  brutes,  the  Injuns — for  brutes  they  are, 
captain,  there's  no  denying  it " 

"Why  need  you  speak  of  it  more?  I  will  find  her  a 
home  and  protection — a  home  and  protection  for  both  of 
you." 

"As  for  me,  captain,  thanking  you  for  the  favor,  you 
won't  do  me  so  sich  thing,  seeing  as  how  I  don't  look  for  it. 
There's  two  or  three  small  matters  agin  me  in  the  Settle- 
ments, which  it  is  no  notion  of  mine  to  bring  up  for  reckon- 
ing. The  gal's  the  crittur  to  be  protected;  and  I'll  take 
my  pay  out  chiefly  in  the  good  you  do  to  her ;  and  for  the 
small  matters,  not  meaning  no  offence,  I  can  trust  best  to 
her — for  she's  my  daughter,  and  she  won't  cheat  me.  Now, 
captain,  a  better  gal  than  Telie — her  true  name's  Matilda, 
but  she  never  heard  any  thing  of  it  but  Telie — a  better  gal 
was  never  seen  in  the  woods,  for  all  she's  young  and  timor- 


336  NICK   OF    THE    WOODS. 

some;  and  it's  jist  my  notion  and  my  desire,  that,  whatever 
may  become  of  me,  nothing  but  good  shall  become  of  her. 
And  now,  captain,  here's  my  tarms :  I'll  cut  you  loose  from 
Injun  tugs  and  Injun  fires,  carry  you  safe  to  the  Settle- 
ments, and  give  you  this  here  precious  sheepskin — which  is 
just  as  much  as  saying  I'll  make  you  the  richest  man,  in 
farms,  flocks,  and  niggers,  in  all  Virginny;  and  you  shall 
marry  the  gal,  and  make  a  lady  of  her." 

"Marry  her  I"  cried  Eoland,  in  amazement  and  conster- 
nation— "marry  her !" 

"Ay,  captain !  that's  the  word,"  said  Atkinson ;  "I  have 
an  idea  you'll  make  her  a  good  husband,  for  you're  an 
honest  feller,  and  a  brave  one — I'll  say  that  for  you ;  and 
she'll  make  you  a  good  wife,  she  will,  by  G — ,  or  I'll  give 
you  my  scalp  on  it.  I  reckon  the  crittur  has  a  liking  fop 
you  already ;  for  I  never  did  see  any  body  so  beg,  and  plead, 
and  take  on  for  mortal  feller.  Marry  her's  the  tarms ;  and, 
I  reckon,  you'll  allow,  they're  easy  ones?" 

"My  good  friend,  you  are  surely  jesting,"  said  the  Vir- 
ginian. "I  will  do  for  her  whatever  you  can  wish  or  de- 
mand. The  best  farm  in  the  whole  estate  shall  be  hers, 
and  the  protection  of  my  kinswoman  will  be  cheerfully  and 
gratefully  granted." 

"As  for  jesting,  captain,"  said  the  renegade,  with  a 
lowering  brow,  "there's  not  one  particle  of  it  about  me 
from  top  to  toe.  I  offer  you  a  bargain,  that  has  all  the 
good  on  your  side;  and  I  reckoned  you'd  'a'  'jumped  at 
it,  with  a  whole  hoss-load  of  thank'ees.  I  offer  you  a  gal 
that's  the  best  gal  in  the  whole  etarnal  wood;  and,  I 
reckon,  you  may  count  all  that  this  here  sheepskin  will 
bring  you,  as  jist  so  much  dowry  of  my  giving.  An't  that 
making  tarms  easy? — for,  as  for  the  small  matters  for 
myself,  them  is  things  I  will  come  upon  the  gal  for,  with- 
out troubling  you  for  me. 

"Now  you  see,  captain,  I'll  jist  argue  the  matter.  You 
may  reckon  it  strange  I  should  make  you  such  an  offer; 
and  ondoubtedly,  so  it  is.  But  here's  the  case.  First,  cap- 
tain, I'm  agin*  burning  you ;  it  makes  me  oneasy  to  think  of 


NICK   OF    THE    WOODS.  337 

it — for  you  han't  done  me  no  harm,,  and  you're  a  young 
feller  of  the  rale  Virginny  grit,  jist  after  my  own  heart, 
and  I  takes  to  you.  And  next,  captain,  there's  the  gal, — 
a  good  gal,  captain,  that's  desarving  of  all  I  can  do  for 
her,  and  a  heap  more.  But,  captain,  what's  to  become  of 
the  crittur,  when  I'm  done  for?  You  see  some  of  these 
cussed  Injuns — or  it  may  be  the  white  men,  for  they're  all 
agin  me — will  take  the  scalp  off  me  some  day,  sooner  or 
later,  there's  no  two  ways  about  it.  Well,  then,  what's  to 
become  of  the  poor  gal,  that  han't  no  friend  in  the  big 
world  to  care  for  her?  Now,  you  see,  I'm  thinking  of  the 
gal,  and  I'm  making  the  bargain  for  her ;  and  I  made  it  in 
my  own  mind,  jist  the  minute  I  seed  you  were  a  captive 
among  us,  and  laid  my  hand  on  this  here  will.  Said  I  to 
myself,  Til  save  the  youngster,  and  I'll  marry  my  gal  to 
him,  and  there's  jist  two  good  things  I'll  do  for  the  pair 
of  'em/ 

"And  so,  captain,  there's  exactly  the  end  of  it.  If  you'll 
take  the  gal,  you  shall  have  her,  and  you'll  make  three  dif~ 
ferent  critturs  greatly  beholden  to  you; — first,  the  gal, 
who's  a  good  gal,  and  a  comely  gal,  and  will  love  and  honor 
you  jist  as  hard  as  the  best  madam  in  the  land;  next  my- 
self, that  am  her  father,  and  longs  to  give  her  to  an  honest 
feller  that  won't  misuse  her ;  and,  last,  you  own  partickelar 
self; — for  the  taking  of  her  is  exactly  the  only  way  you 
have  of  getting  back  the  old  major's  lands,  and,  what  I 
hold  to  be  jist  as  agreeable,  dragging  clear  of  a  hot  Injun 
fire,  that  will  roast  you  to  cinders,  if  you  remain  in  this 
d — -d  village  two  days  longer !" 

"My  friend,"  cried  Eoland,  driven  to  desperation,  for  he 
perceived  Atkinson  was  making  his  extraordinary  proposal 
in  perfectly  good  faith  and  simplicity,  as  a  regular  matter 
of  business,  "you  know  not  what  you  ask.  Free  me  and 
my  kinswoman " 

"As  for  young  madam  there,"  interrupted  the  renegade, 
"don't  be  at  all  oneasy.  She's  in  good  hands,  I  tell  you; 
and  Braxley  '11  fetch  her  straight  off  to  Virginny,  as  soon 
as  he  has  brought  her  to  reason." 


338  NICK    OP   THE    WOODS. 

"And  your  terms,"  said  Eoland,  smothering  his  fury  as 
he  could,  "imply  an  understanding  that  my  cousin  is  to 
be  surrendered  to  him." 

"Ondoubtedly,"  replied  Doe;  "there's  no  two  ways 
about  it.  I  work  on  my  own  hook,  in  the  matter  of  the 
fortun' — 'cause  how,  Dick's  not  to  be  trusted,  where  the 
play's  all  in  his  own  hands ;  but  as  for  cheating  him  out  of 
the  gal,  there's  no  manner  of  good  can  come  of  it,  and  it's 
clear  agin  my  own  interest.  No,  captain,  here's  the  case: 
you  takes  my  gal  Telie,  and  Braxley  takes  the  t'other ;  and 
so  it's  all  settled  fair  between  you." 

"Hark  you,  rascal !"  cried  Roland,  giving  way  to  his 
feelings ;  "if  you  would  deserve  a  reward,  you  must  win  it, 
not  by  saving  me,  but  my  cousin.  My  own  life  I  would 
buy  at  the  price  of  half  the  lands  which  that  will  makes  me 
master  of;  for  the  rescue  of  Edith  from  the  vile  Braxley, 
I  would  give  all.  Save  her, — save  her  from  Braxley,  and 
then  ask  me  what  you  will." 

"Well,"  said  Atkinson,  "and  you'll  marry  my  gal?" 

"Death  and  furies !  are  you  besotted  ?  I  will  enrich  her, 
— ay,  with  the  best  of  my  estate, — with  all,  she  shall  have 
it  all." 

"And  you  won't  have  her  then?"  cried  the  renegade, 
starting  up  in  anger.  "You  don't  think  her  good  enough 
for  you,  because  you're  of  a  great  quality  stock,  and  she's 
come  of  nothing  but  me,  John  Atkinson,  a  plain  back- 
woods feller?  Or  mayhap,"  he  added,  more  temperately, 
"you're  agin  taking  her,  because  of  my  being  sich  a  d — d 
notorious  rascal?  Well,  now  I  reckon  that's  a  thing  no- 
body will  know  of  in  Virginny,  unless  you  should  tell  it 
yourself.  You  can  jist  call  her  Telie  Jones,  or  Telie 
Small,  or  any  nickname  of  that  natur',  and  nobody'll  be 
the  wiser;  and  I  shall  jist  say  nothing  about  myself — I 
won't,  captain,  d — n  me;  for  it's  the  gal's  good  I'm  hunt- 
ing after,  and  none  of  my  own." 

"You  are  mad,  I  tell  you,"  cried  the  soldier.  "Fix  your 
own  terms  for  her;  I  will  execute  any  instruments,  I  will 
give  you  any  bond." 


NICK   OF    THE    WOODS.  339 

"None  of  your  cussed  bonds  for  me,"  said  Doe,  with 
great  contempt;  "I  knows  the  worth  of  'em,  and  I'm  jist 
lawyer  enough  to  see  how  you  could  get  out  of  'em  by 
swearing  they  were  written  under  compulsion,  or  what- 
somever  you  call  it.  And,  besides,  who's  to  stop  your 
cheating  the  gal  that  has  nobody  to  take  care  of  her,  when 
you  gits  her  in  Virginny,  where  I  darn't  follow  her  ?  No, 
captain,  there's  jist  but  one  way  to  make  all  safe  and  fair ; 
and  that's  by  marrying  her.  So  marry  her,  captain ;  and, 
jist  be  short,  captain,  you  must  marry  her  or  burn,  there's 
no  two  ways  about  it.  I  make  you  the  last  offer;  there's 
no  time  for  another;  for  to-morrow  you  must  be  help'd 
off,  or  it's  too  late  for  you.  Come,  captain,  jist  say  the 
word — marry  the  gal,  and  I'll  save  you." 

"You  are  mad,  I  tell  you  again.  Marry  her  I  neither 
can  nor  will.  But " 

"There's  no  occasion  for  more,"  interrupted  Doe,  start- 
ing angrily  up.  "You've  jist  said  the  word,  and  that's 
enough.  And  now,  captain,  when  you  come  to  the  stake, 
don't  say  I  brought  you  there; — no,  d — n  it,  don't — for 
I've  done  jist  all  I  could  do  to  help  you  to  life  and  for- 
tun' — I  have,  d — n  me,  you  can't  deny  it." 

And  with  these  words,  uttered  with  sullen  accents  and 
looks,  the  renegade  stole  from  the  hut,  disregarding  all  Ro- 
land's entreaties  to  him  to  return,  and  all  the  offers  of 
wealth  with  which  the  latter,  in  a  frensy  of  despair,  sought 
to  awaken  his  cupidity  and  compassion.  The  door-mats 
had  scarce  closed  upon  his  retreating  figure  before  they 
were  parted  to  give  entrance  to  the  two  old  Indians,  who 
immediately  assumed  their  position  at  his  side,  preserving 
them  with  vigilant  fidelity  throughout  the  remainder  of 
the  night. 


340  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

What    signifies    my    deadly-standing    eye, 
My  silence,   and   my   cloudy   melancholy? 
Vengeance  is  in  my  heart,  death  in  my  hand, 
Blood  and  revenge  are  hammering  in  my  head. 

— Titus  Andronicus. 

IN  the  mean  time,  and  at  the  very  moment  when  the 
renegade  was  urging  his  extraordinary  proposals  on  the 
young  Virginian,  a  scene  was  passing  in  the  hut  of  We- 
nonga,  in  which  one  of  Roland's  fellow-prisoners  was  des- 
tined to  play  an  important  and  remarkable  part.  There,  in 
the  very  tent  in  which  he  had  struck  so  daring  a  blow  for 
the  rescue  of  Edith,  but  in  which  Edith  appeared  no 
more,  lay  the  luckless  Nathan,  a  victim  not  so  much  of  his 
own  rashness  as  of  the  excessive  zeal,  not  to  say  folly,  of 
his  coadjutors.  And  thither  he  had  been  conducted  but  a 
few  hours  before,  after  having  passed  the  previous  night 
and  day  in  a  prison-house  less  honored,  but  fated,  as  it 
proved,  to  derive  peculiar  distinction  from  the  presence 
of  such  a  guest. 

His  extraordinary  appearance,  partaking  so  much  of 
that  of  an  Indian  juggler  arrayed  in  the  panoply  of  leger- 
demain, had  produced,  as  was  mentioned,  a  powerful  effect 
on  the  minds  of  his  captors,  ever  prone  to  the  grossest 
credulity  and  superstition;  and  this  was  prodigiously  in- 
creased by  the  sudden  recurrence  of  his  disease, — a  dreadful 
infliction,  whose  convulsions  seem  ever  to  have  been  pro- 
*  posed  as  the  favorite  exemplars  for  the  expression  of 
prophetic  fury  and  the  demoniacal  orgasm, — and  were 
aped  alike  by  the  Pythian  priestess  on  her  tripod  and  the 
ruder  impostor  of  an  Indian  wigwam.  The  foaming  lips 
and  convulsed  limbs  of  the  prisoner,  if  they  did  not  "speak 
the  god"  to  the  awe-struck  barbarians,  declared  at  least  the 
presence  of  the  mighty  fiend  who  possessed  his  body;  and 
when  the  fit  was  over,  though  they  took  good  care  to  bind 
him  with  thongs  of  bison-hide,  like  his  companions,  and 


NICK   OF    THE    WOODS.  341 

led  him  away  to  a  place  of  security,  it  was  with  a  degree 
of  gentleness  and  respect,  that  proved  the  strength  of  their 
belief  in  his  supernatural  endowments. 

This  belief  was  still  further  indicated  the  next  day,  by 
crowds  of  savages  who  flocked  into  the  wigwam  where  he 
was  confined,,  some  to  stare  at  him,  some  to  inquire  the 
mysteries  of  their  fate,  and  some,  as  it  seemed,  with  cre- 
dulity less  unconditional,  to  solve  the  enigma  of  his  appear- 
ance, before  yielding  their  full  belief.  Among  these  last 
were  the  renegade  and  one  or  two  savages  of  a  more  sa- 
gacious or  sceptical  turn  than  their  fellows,  who  beset  the 
supposed  conjurer  with  questions  calculated  to  pluck  out 
the  heart  of  his  mystery. 

But  questions  and  curiosity  were  in  vain.  The  conjurer 
was  possessed  by  a  silent  devil;  and  whether  it  was  that 
the  shock  of  his  last  paroxysm  had  left  his  mind  be- 
numbed and  stupefied,  whether  his  courage  had  failed  at 
last,  leaving  him  plunged  in  despair,  or  whether,  indeed, 
his  frigid  indifference  was  not  altogether  assumed,  to  serve 
a  peculiar  purpose,  it  was  nevertheless  certain  that  he  be- 
stowed not  the  slightest  attention  on  any  of  his  questioners, 
not  even  upon  Doe,  who  had  previously  endeavored  to  un- 
ravel the  riddle  by  seeking  the  assistance  of  Balph  Stack- 
pole, — assistance,  however,  which  Ralph,  waxing  sagacious 
of  a  sudden,  professed  himself  wholly  unable  to  give.  The 
faithful  fellow  indeed  professed  to  be  just'  as  ignorant  of 
the  person  and  character  of  the  young  Virginian;  swear- 
ing, with  a  magnanimous  resolve,  to  assume  the  pains  and 
penalties  of  Indian  ire  on  his  own  shoulders,  that  "the 
hoss-stealing"  (which  he  doubted  not  would  be  held  the 
most  unpardonable  feature  in  the  adventure),  "was  jist 
a  bit  of  a  private  speculation  of  his  own, — that  there  was 
nobody  with  him, — that  he  had  come  on  his  expedition 
alone,  and  knew  no  more  of  the  other  fellows  than  he  did 
of  the  'tarnal  tempers  of  Injuns  bosses, — not  he!"  In 
short  the  sceptics  were  baffled,  and  the  superstitious  were 
left  to  the  enjoyment  of  their  wonder  and  awe. 

At  nightfall,  Nathan  was  removed  to  Wenonga's  cabin, 


342  NICK   OF   THE    WOODS. 

where  the  chief,  surrounded  by  a  dozen  or  more  warriors, 
made  him  a  speech  in  such  English  phrases  as  he  had  ac- 
quired, informing  the  prisoner,  as  before,  that  "he,  We- 
nonga,  was  a  great  chief  and  warrior;  that  the  other,  the 
prisoner,  was  a  great  medicine-man,  and,  finally,  that  he, 
Wenonga,  required  of  his  prisoner,  the  medicine-man,  by 
his  charms,  to  produce  the  Jibbenainosay,  the  unearthly 
slayer  of  his  people  and  curse  of  his  tribe,  in  order  that  he, 
the  great  chief,  who  feared  neither  warrior  nor  devil,  might 
fight  him  like  a  man  and  kill  him,  so  that  he,  the  aforesaid 
destroyer,  should  destroy  his  young  men  in  the  dark  no 
longer." 

Not  even  to  this  speech,  though  received  by  the  war- 
riors with  marks  of  great  approbation,  did  Nathan  vouch- 
safe the  least  notice ;  and  the  savages  despairing  of  moving 
him  to  their  purpose  at  that  period,  but  hoping  perhaps  to 
find  him  in  a  more  reasonable  mood  at  another  moment, 
left  him, — but  not  until  they  had  again  inspected  the 
thongs,  and  satisfied  themselves  they  were  tied  in  knots 
strong  and  intricate  enough  to  hold  even  a  conjurer.  They 
also,  before  leaving  him  to  himself,  placed  food  and  water 
at  his  side,  and  in  a  way  that  was  perhaps  designed  to  show 
their  opinion  of  his  wondrous  powers ;  for  as  his  arms  were 
pinioned  tightly  behind  his  back,  it  was  evident  he  could 
feed  himself  only  by  magic. 

The  stolid  indifference  to  all  sublunary  matters  which 
had  distinguished  Nathan  throughout  the  scene,  vanished 
the  moment  he  found  himself  alone.  In  fact,  the  step  of 
the  savage  the  last  to  depart  was  yet  rustling  among  the 
weeds  at  the  Black  Vulture's  door,  when,  making  a  violent 
effort,  he  succeeded  in  placing  himself  in  a  sitting  posture, 
and  glared  with  eager  look  around  the  apartment,  which 
was,  as  before,  dimly  lighted  by  a  fire  on  the  floor.  The 
piles  of  skins  and  domestic  utensils  were  hanging  about, 
as  on  the  preceding  night ;  and,  indeed,  nothing  seemed  to 
have  been  disturbed  except  the  weapons,  of  which  there  had 
been  so  many  when  Edith  occupied  the  den,  but  of  which 
not  a  single  one  now  remained.  Over  the  fire — the  long 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  343 

tresses  that  depended  from  it  swinging  and  fluttering  in 
the  currents  of  smoke  and  heated  air — was  the  bundle  of 
scalps  to  which  Braxley  had  so  insidiously  directed  the 
gaze  of  Edith,  and  which  was  now  one  of  the  first  objects 
that  met  Nathan's  eyes. 

Having  reconnoitred  every  corner  and  cranny;  and  con- 
vinced himself  that  there  was  no  lurking  savage  watching 
his  movements,  he  began  straightway  to  test  the  strength  of 
'  the  thong  by  which  his  arms  were  bound,  but  without  mak- 
ing the  slightest  impression  on  it.  The  cord  was  strong; 
the  knots  were  securely  tied ;  and  after  five  or  six  minutes 
of  struggling,  in  which  he  made  the  most  prodigious  efforts 
to  tear  it  asunder,  without  hesitating  at  the  anguish  it 
caused  him,  he  was  obliged  to  give  over  his  hopes.  Fain 
could  he  have,  like  Thomson's  demon  in  the  net  of  the  good 
Knight,  enjoyed  that  consolation  of  despair,  to 

"Sit  him  felly  down,  and  gnaw  his  bitter  nail." 

He  summoned  his  strength,  and  renewed  his  efforts  again 
and  again,  but  always  without  effect;  and  being  at  last 
persuaded  of  his  inability  to  aid  himself,  he  leaned  back 
against  a  bundle  of  skins,  to  counsel  with  his  own  thoughts 
what  hope,  if  any,  yet  remained. 

At  that  instant,  and  while  the  unuttered  misery  of  his 
spirit  might  have  been  read  in  his  haggard  and  despairing 
eyes,  a  low  whining  sound,  coming  from  a  corner  of  the 
tent,  but  on  the  outside,  with  a  rustling  and  scratching,  as 
if  some  animal  were  struggling  to  burrow  its  way  betwixt 
the  skins  and  the  earth  into  the  lodge,  struck  his  ear.  He 
started  and  stared  round  with  a  wild  but  joyous  look  of 
recognition. 

"Hist,  hist!"  he  cried — or  rather  whispered,  for  his 
voice  was  not  above  his  breath — "hist,  hist!  If  thee  ever 
was  wise,  now  do  thee  show  it !" 

The  whining  ceased;  the  scratching  and  rustling  was 
heard  a  moment  longer;  and  then,  rising  from  the  skin 


344  NICK   OF   THE    WOODS. 

wall  under  which  he  had  made  his  way,  appeared — no 
bulky  demon,  indeed,  summoned  by  the  conjurer  to  his 
assistance — but  little  dog  Peter,  his  trusty,  sagacious,  and 
hitherto  inseparable  friend,  creeping  with  stealthy  step, 
but  eyes  glistening  with  affection,  towards  the  bound  and 
helpless  prisoner. 

"I  can't  hug  thee,  little  Peter !"  cried  the  master,  as  the 
little  animal  crawled  to  him,  wagging  his  tail,  and  throw- 
ing his  paws  upon  Nathan's  knee,  looked  into  his  face  with 
a  most  meaning  stare  of  inquiry — "I  can't  hug  thee, 
Peter !  Thee  sees  how  it  is !  the  Injuns  have  ensnared  me. 
But  where  thee  is,  Peter,  there,  there  is  hope.  Quick,  little 
Peter !"  he  cried,  thrusting  his  -  arms  out  from  his  back ; 
"thee  has  teeth,  and  thee  knows  how  to  use  them — thee  has 
gnawed  me  free  before.  Quick,  little  Peter,  quick !  Thee 
teeth  is  the  knives,  and  with  them  thee  can  cut  me  free !" 

The  little  animal,  whose  remarkable  docility  and  sagacity 
have  been  instanced  before,  seemed  actually  to  understand 
his  master's  words,  or,  at  least,  to  comprehend  from  his 
gestures  the  strange  duty  that  was  now  required  of  him; 
and,  without  more  ado,  he  laid  hold  with  his  teeth  upon 
the  thong  round  Nathan's  wrist,  tugging  and  gnawing  at 
it  with  a  zeal  and  perseverance  that  seemed  to  make  his 
master's  deliverance,  sooner  or  later,  sure ;  and  his  industry 
was  quickened  by  Nathan,  who  all  the  while  encouraged 
him  with  whispers  to  continue  his  efforts. 

"Thee  gnawed  me  loose  when  the  four  Shawnees  had  me 
bound  by  their  fire,  at  night,  on  the  banks  of  Kenhawa — 
(does  thee  remember  ihai,  Peter?)  Ay,  thee  did,  while 
the  knaves  slept ;  and  from  that  sleep  they  never  waked,  the 
murdering  villains ! — no,  not  one  of  them !  Gnaw,  little 
Peter, — gnaw  hard  and  fast,  and  care  not  if  thee  wounds 
me  with  thee  teeth;  for,  truly,  I  will  forgive  thee,  even  if 
thee  bites  me  to  the  bone.  Faster,  Peter,  faster!  Does 
thee  boggle  at  the  skin  because  of  its  hardness  ?  Truly,  I 
have  seen  thee  a-hunkering,  Peter,  when  thee  would  have 
cracked  it  like  a  marrow-bone !  Fast,  Peter,  fast ;  and 
thee  shall  see  me  again  in  freedom !" 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  345 

With  such  expressions  Nathan  inflamed  the  zeal  of  his 
familiar,  who  continued  to  gnaw  for  the  space  of  five 
minutes  or  more,  and  with  such  effect,  that  Nathan,  who 
ever  and  anon  tested  the  brute's  progress  by  a  violent  jerk 
at  the  rope,  found,  at  the  fourth  or  fifth  effort,  that  it 
yielded  a  little,  and  cracked,  as  if  its  fibres  were  already 
giving  way. 

"Now,  Peter !  tug,  if  thee  ever  tugged !"  he  cried,  his 
hopes  rising  almost  to  ecstasy;  "a  little  longer;  one  bite' 
more, — a  little,  but  a  little  longer,  Peter,  if  thee  loves 
thee  master !     Yea,  Peter,  and  we  will  walk  the  woods 
again  in  freedom  !     Now,  Peter,  now  for  thee  last  bite !" 

But  the  last  bite  Peter,  on  the  sudden,  betrayed  a  dis- 
inclination to  make.  He  ceased  his  toil,  jostled  against 
his  masters  side,  and  uttered  a  whine,  the  lowest  that 
could  be  made  audible. 

"Hah !"  cried  Nathan,  as,  at  the  same  instant,  he  heard 
the  sound  of  footsteps  approaching  the  wigwam,  "thee 
speaks  the  truth,  and  thee  accursed  villains  is  upon  us; 
away  with  thee,  dog — thee  shall  finish  thee  work  by  and 
byl" 

Faithful  to  his  master's  orders,  or  perhaps  to  his  own 
sense  of  what  was  fitting  and  proper  in  such  a  case,  little 
Peter  leaped  hastily  among  the  skins  and  other  litter  that 
covered  half  the  floor  and  the  sleeping-berths  of  the  lodge, 
and  was  immediately  out  of  sight,  having  left  the  apart- 
ment, or  concealed  himself  in  its  darkest  corner.  The 
steps  approached ;  they  reached  the  door ;  Nathan  threw 
himself  back,  reclining  against  his  pile  of  'furs,  and  fixed 
his  eyes  upon  the  mats  at  the  entrance.  They  were  pres- 
ently parted;  and  the  old  chief,  Wenonga,  came  halting 
into  the  apartment, — halting,  yet  with  a  step  that  was 
designed  to  indicate  all  the  pride  and  dignity  of  a  war- 
rior. And  this  attempt  at  state  was  the  more  natural  and 
proper,  as  he  was  armed  and  painted  as  if  for  war,  his 
grim  countenance  hideously  bedaubed  on  one  side  with 
vermilion,  on  the  other  with  black,  a  long  scalping-knife, 
without  sheath  or  cover,  swinging  from  his  wampum  belt, 


346  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

while  a  hatchet,  the  blade  and  handle  both  of  steel,  was 
grasped  in  his  hand. 

In  this  guise,  and  with  a  wild  and  demoniacal  glitter  of 
eye,  that  seemed  the  result  of  mingled  drunkenness  and 
insanity,  the  old  chief  stalked  and  limped  up  to  the  pris- 
oner, looking  as  if  bent  upon  his  instant  destruction.  That 
his  passions  were  up  in  arms,  that  he  was  ripe  for  mis- 
chief and  blood,  was  indeed  plain  and  undeniable;  but  he 
soon  made  it  apparent  that  his  rage  was  only  conditional 
and  alternative,  as  regarded  the  prisoner.  Pausing  within 
three  or  four  feet  of  him,  and  giving  him  a  look  that 
seemed  designed  to  freeze  his  blood,  it  was  so  desperately 
hostile  and  savage,  he  extended  his  arm  and  hatchet, — not, 
however,  to  strike,  as  it  appeared,  but  to  do  what  might 
be  judged  almost  equally  agreeable  to  nine-tenths  of  his 
race, — -that  is,  to  deliver  a  speech. 

"I  am  Wenonga !"  he  cried,  in  his  own  tongue,  being 
perhaps  too  much  enraged  to  think  of  any  other, — "I  am 
Wenonga,  a  great  Shawnee  chief.  I  have  fought  the  Long- 
knives,  and  drunk  their  blood;  when  they  hear  my  voice 
they  are  afraid, — they  run  howling  away  like  dogs  when 
the  squaws  beat  them  from  the  fire — who  ever  stood  before 
Wenonga?  I  have  fought  my  enemies,  and  killed  them. 
I  never  feared  a  white  man ;  why  should  I  fear  a  white 
man's  devil  ?  Where  is  the  Jibbenainosay,  the  curse  of  my 
tribe? — the  Shawneewannaween,  the  howl  of  my  people? 
He  kills  them  in  the  dark, — he  creeps  upon  them  while 
they  sleep ;  but  he  fears  to  stand  before  the  face  of  a  war- 
rior! Am  I  a  dog?  or  a  woman?  The  squaws  and  the 
children  curse  me,  as  I  go  by ;  they  say  7  am  the  killer  of 
their  husbands  and  fathers ;  they  tell  me  it  was  the  deed  of 
Wenonga  that  brought  the  white  man's  devil  to  kill  them ; 
if  Wenonga  is  a  chief,  let  him  kill  the  killer  of  his  people ! 
I  am  Wenonga ;  I  am  a  man ;  I  fear  nothing ;  I  have  sought 
the  Jibbenainosay.  But  the  Jibbenainosay  is  a  coward ;  he 
walks  in  the  dark,  he  kills  in  the  time  of  sleep — he  fears 
to  fight  a  warrior!  My  brother  is  a  great  medicine-man; 
he  is  a  white  man,  and  he  knows  how  to  find  the  white 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  347 

man's  devils.  Let  my  brother  speak  for  me ;  let  him  show 
me  where  to  find  the  Jibbenainosay ;  and  he  shall  be  a 
great  chief,  and  the  son  of  a  chief;  Wenonga  will  make 
him  his  son,  and  he  shall  be  a  Shawnee !" 

'•'Does  Wenonga,  at  last,  feel  he  has  brought  a  devil 
upon  his  people  ?"  said  Nathan,  speaking  for  the  first  time 
since  his  capture,  and  speaking  in  a  way  well  suited  to 
strike  the  interrogator  with  surprise.  A  sneer,  as  it 
'seemed,  of  gratified  malice  crept  over  his  face,  and  was 
visible  even  through  the  coat  of  paint  that  still  invested  his 
features;  and,  to  crown  all,  his  words  were  delivered  in  the 
Shawnee  tongue,  correctly  and  unhesitatingly  pronounced ; 
which  was  itself,  or  so  Wenonga  appeared  to  hold  it,  a 
proof  of  his  superhuman  acquirements. 

The  old  chief  started,  as  the  words  fell  upon  his  ear,  and 
looked  around  him  in  awe,  as  if  the  prisoner  had  already 
summoned  a  spirit  to  his  elbow. 

"I  have  heard  the  voice  of  the  dead!"  he  cried.  "My 
brother  is  a  great  medicine !  But  I  am  a  chief ;  I  am  not 
afraid." 

"The  chief  tells  me  lies,"  rejoined  Nathan,  who,  having 
once  unlocked  his  lips,  seemed  but  little  disposed  to  resume 
his  former  silence; — "the  chief  tells  me  lies;  there  is  no 
white  devil  hurts  his  people !" 

"I  am  an  old  man,  and  a  warrior, — I  speak  the  truth !" 
said  the  chief,  with  dignity;  and  then  added,  with  sudden 
feeling, — "I  am  an  old  man;  I  had  sons  and  grandsons — 
young  warriors,  and  boys  that  would  soon  have  blacked 
their  faces  for  battle* — where  are  they  ?  The  Jibbenaino- 
say has  been  in  my  village,  he  has  been  in  my  wigwam — 
there  are  none  left — the  Jibbenainosay  killed  them!" 

"Ay!"  exclaimed  the  prisoner,  and  his  eyes  shot  fire  as 
he  spoke,  "they  fell  under  his  hand,  man  and  boy, — there 
was  not  one  of  them  spared — they  were  of  the  blood  of 
Wenonga !" 


*  The   young  warriors   of   many  tribes   are   obliged   to   confine 
themselves  to  black  paint,  during  their  probationary  campaigns. 


348  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

"Wenonga  is  a  great  chief!"  cried  the  Indian;  "he  is 
childless ;  but  childless  he  has  made  the  Long-knife." 

"The  Long-knife,  and  the  son  of  Onas !"  said  Nathan. 

The  chief  staggered  back,  as  if  struck  by  a  blow,  and 
stared  wildly  upon  the  prisoner. 

"My  brother  is  a  medicine-man, — he  knows  all  things !" 
he  exclaimed.  "He  speaks  the  truth;  I  am  a  great  war- 
rior; I  took  the  scalp  of  the  Quakel* " 

"And  of  his  wife  and  children — you  left  not  one  alive ! — 
Ay!"  continued  Nathan,  fastening  his  looks  upon  the 
amazed  chief,  "you  slew  them  all!  And  he  that  was  the 
husband  and  father,  was  the  Shawnees'  friend,  the  friend 
even  of  Wenonga !" 

"The  white  men  are  dogs  and  robbers !"  said  the  chief ; 
"the  Quakel  was  my  brother;  but  I  killed  him.  I  am  an 
Indian — I  love  white  man's  blood.  My  people  have  soft 
hearts ;  they  cried  for  the  Quakel ;  but  I  am  a  warrior  with 
no  heart.  I  killed  them;  their  scalps  are  hanging  to  my 
fire-post !  I  am  not  sorry ;  I  am  not  afraid." 

The  eyes  of  the  prisoner  followed  the  Indian's  hand,  as 
he  pointed,  with  savage  triumph,  to  the  shrivelled  scalps 
that  had  once  crowned  the  heads  of  childhood  and  inno- 
cence, and  then  sunk  to  the  floor,  while  his  whole  frame 
shivered  as  with  an  ague-fit. 

"My  brother  is  a  great  medicine-man,"  iterated  the 
chief;  "he  shall  show  me  the  Jibbenainosay,  or  he  shall 
die." 

"The  chief  lies!"  cried  Nathan,  with  a  sudden  and 
taunting  laugh;  "he  can  talk  big  things  to  a  prisoner,  but 
he  fears  the  Jibbenainosay !" 

"I  am  a  chief  and  warrior;  I  will  fight  the  white  man's 
devil !" 

"The  warrior  shall  see  him  then/'  said  the  captive,  with 
extraordinary  fire.  "Cut  me  loose  from  my  bonds,  and  I 
will  bring  him  before  the  chief." 

*  Quakels — a  corruption  of  Quakers,  whom  the  Indiana  of 
Pennsylvania  originally  designated  as  the  sons  of  Onas,  that 
being  one  of  tbe  names  they  bestowed  upon  Peim, 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  349 

And  as  he  spoke,  he  thrust  out  his  legs,  inviting  the 
stroke  of  the  axe  upon  the  thongs  that  bound  his  ankles. 

But  this  was  a  favor,  which,  stupid  or  mad  as  he  was, 
Wenonga  hesitated  to  grant. 

"The  chief,"  cried  Nathan,  with  a  laugh  of  scorn, 
"would  stand  face  to  face  with  the  Jibbenainosay,  and  yet 
fears  to  loose  a  naked  prisoner !" 

The  taunt  produced  its  effect.  The  axe  fell  upon  the 
thong,  and  Nathan  leaped  to  his  feet.  He  extended  his 
wrists.  The  Indian  hesitated  again.  "The  chief  shall 
see  the  Jibbenainosay !"  cried  Nathan;  and  the  cord  was 
cut.  The  prisoner  turned  quickly  round,  and  while  his 
eyes  fastened  with  a  wild  but  joyous  glare  upon  his  jailer's, 
a  laugh,  that  would  have  become  the  jaws  of  a  hyena, 
lighted  up  his  visage,  and  sounded  from  his  lips.  "Look !" 
he  cried,  "thee  has  thee  will !  Thee  sees  the  destroyer  of 
thee  race, — ay,  murdering  villain,  the  destroyer  of  thee  peo- 
ple, and  thee  own !" 

And  with  that,  leaping  upon  the  astounded  chief  with 
rather  the  rancorous  ferocity  of  a  wolf  than  the  enmity  of 
a  human  being,  and  clutching  him  by  the  throat  with  one 
hand,  while  with  the  other  he  tore  the  iron  tomahawk  from 
his  grasp,  he  bore  him  to  the  earth,  clinging  to  him  as  he 
fell,  and  using  the  wrested  weapon  with  such  furious  haste 
and  skill,  that  before  they  had  yet  reached  the  ground,  he 
had  buried  it  in  the  Indian's  brain.  Another  stroke,  and 
another,  he  gave  with  the  same  murderous  activity  and 
force ;  and  Wenonga  trode  the  path  to  the  spirit-land,  bear- 
ing the  same  gory  evidences  of  the  unrelenting  and  success- 
ful vengeance  of  the  white  man  that  his  children  and 
grandchildren  had  borne  before  him. 

"Ay,  dog,  thee  dies  at  last!  at  last  I  have  caught 
thee !" 

With  these  words,  Nathan,  leaving  the  shattered  skull, 
dashed  the  tomahawk  into  the  Indian's  chest,  snatched  the 
scalping-knife  from  the  belt,  and  with  one  griding  sweep 
of  the  blade,  and  one  fierce  jerk  of  his  arm,  the  gray  scalp- 
lock  of  the  warrior  was  torn  from  the  dishonored  head, 


350  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

The  last  proof  of  the  slayer's  ferocity  was  not  given  until 
he  had  twice,  with  his  utmost  strength,  drawn  the  knife 
over  the  dead  man's  breast,  dividing  skin,  cartilage,  and 
even  bone  before  it,  so  sharp  was  the  blade,  and  so  power- 
ful the  hand  that  urged  it. 

Then,  leaping  to  his  feet,  and  snatching  from  the  post 
the  bundle  of  withered  scalps, — the  locks  and  ringlets  of 
his  own  murdered  children, — which  he  spread  a  moment 
before  his  eyes  with  one  hand,  while  the  other  extended,  as 
if  to  contrast  the  two  prizes  together,  the  reeking  scalp- 
lock  of  the  murderer,  he  sprang  through  the  door  of  the 
lodge,  and  fled  from  the  village;  but  not  until  he  had,  in 
the  insane  fury  of  the  moment,  given  forth  a  wild,  ear- 
piercing  yell,  that  spoke  the  triumph,  the  exulting  trans- 
port of  long-baffled  but  never-dying  revenge.  The  wild 
whoop  thus  rising  in  the  depth  and  stillness  of  the  night, 
startled  many  a  wakeful  warrior  and  timorous  mother 
from  her  repose.  But  such  sounds  in  a  disorderly  hamlet 
of  barbarians  were  too  common  to  create  alarm  or  uneasi- 
ness; and  the  wary  and  the  timid  again  betook  themselves 
to  their  dreams,  leaving  the  corse  of  their  chief  to  stiffen 
on  the  floor  of  his  own  wigwam. 


CHAPTEE  XXXIV. 

Now  they  reach  thee  in  their  anger: 

Fire  and  smoke  and  hellish  clangor 

Are  around  thee!  — Byron. 

FROM  an  uneasy  slumber,  into  which,  notwithstanding 
his  sufferings  of  mind  and  body,  he  had  at  last  fallen,  Bo- 
land  was  roused  at  the  break  of  day  by  a  horrible  clamor 
that  suddenly  arose  in  the  village.  A  shrill  scream,  that 
seemed  to  come  from  a  female  voice,  was  first  heard ;  then 
a  wild  yell  from  the  lungs  of  a  warrior,  which  was  caught 
up  and  repeated  by  other  voices,  and,  in  a  few  moments, 


KICK   OF    THE    WOODS.  351 

the  whole  town  resounded  with  shrieks,  dismal  and  thrill- 
ing, and  expressing  astonishment  mingled  with  fear  and 
horror. 

The  prisoner,  incapable  of  comprehending  the  cause  of 
such  a  commotion,  looked  to  his  guards,  who  had  started 
up  at  the  first  cry,  grasped  their  arms,  and  stood  gazing 
upon  one  another  with  perturbed  looks  of  inquiry.  The 
shriek  was  repeated  by  one, — twenty, — an  hundred  throats ; 
and  the  two  warriors,  with  hurried  exclamations  of  alarm, 
rushed  from  the  wigwam,  leaving  the  prisoner  to  solve  the 
riddle  as  he  might.  But  he  tasked  his  faculties  in  vain. 
His  first  idea — and  it  sent  the  blood  leaping  to  his  heart — 
that  the  village  was  suddenly  attacked  by  an  army  of  white 
men, — perhaps  by  the  gallant  Bruce,  the  commander  of  the 
station  where  his  misfortunes  had  begun, — was  but  mo- 
mentary; no  lusty  hurrahs  were  heard  mingled  with  the 
shrieks  of  the  savages,  and  no  explosions  of  fire-arms  de- 
noted the  existence  of  conflict.  And  yet  he  perceived  that 
the  cries  were  all  of  surprise  and  dismay.  Some  voices 
were  uplifted  in  rage,  which  was  evidently  spreading 
among  the  agitated  barbarians,  and  displacing  the  other 
passions  in  their  minds. 

In  the  midst  of  the  tumult,  and  while  he  was  yet  lost  in 
wonder  and  speculation,  the  renegade  Doe  suddenly  rushed 
into  the  wigwam,  pale  with  affright  and  agitation. 

"They'll  murder  you,  captain !"  he  cried,  ^there's  no 
time  for  holding  back  now ;  take  the  gal,  and  I'll  save  you. 
The  village  is  up, — they'll  have  your  blood, — they're  cry- 
ing for  it  already, — squaws,  warriors  and  all, — ay,  d — n 
'em,  there's  no  stopping  'em  now !" 

"What  in  heaven's  name  is  the  matter?"  demanded  the 
soldier. 

"All  etarnity's  the  matter !"  replied  Doe,  with  vehement 
utterance ;  "the  Jibbenainosay  has  been  in  the  village,  and 
killed  the  chief,  ay,  d — n  him,  struck  him  in  his  own  house, 
marked  him  at  his  own  fire !  he  lies  dead  and  scalped, — ay, 
and  crossed  too, — on  the  floor  of  his  own  wigwam;  the 
conjurer  gone,  snapped  up  by  his  devi!2  and  Wenonga  stiff 


352  NICK   OF   THE    WOODS. 

and  gory.  Don't  you  hear  'em  yelling?  The  Jibbenaino- 
say,  I  tell  you — he  has  killed  the  chief ;  we  found  him  dead 
in  his  cabin,  and  the  Injuns  are  bawling  for  revenge — they 
are,  d — n  'em,  and  they'll  murder  you — burn  you — tear 
you  to  pieces;  they  will,  there's  no  two  ways  about  it; 
they're  singing  out  to  murder  the  white  men,  and  they'll 
be  on  you  in  no  time !" 

"And  there  is  no  escape!"  cried  Roland,  whose  blood 
curdled,  as  he  listened  to  the  thrilling  yells  that  were  in- 
creased in  number  and  loudness,  as  if  the  enraged  bar- 
barians, rushing  madly  through  the  village,  were  gather- 
ing arms  to  destroy  the  prisoners, — "there  is  no  escape  ?" 

"Take  the  gal!  jist  say  the  word,  and  I'll  save  you,  or 
die  with  you,  I  will,  d — n  me !"  exclaimed  Doe,  with  fierce 
energy.  "There's  hosses  grazing  in  the  pastures;  there's 
halters  swinging  above  us;  I'll  mount  you,  and  save  you. 
Say  the  word,  captain,  and  I'll  cut  you  loose,  and  save  you 
— say  it,  and  be  quick;  your  life  depends  on  it — hark! 
the  dogs  is  coming!  Hold  out  your  arms  till  I  cut  the 
tug." 

"Any  thing  for  my  life !"  cried  the  Virginian ;  "but  if 
it  can  be  only  bought  at  the  price  of  marrying  the  girl,  it  is 
lost." 

And  the  soldier  would  have  resisted  the  effort  Doe  was 
making  for  his  deliverance. 

"You'll  be  murdered,  I  tell  you!"  re-echoed  Doe,  with 
increased  vehemence,  holding  the  knife  ready  in  his  hand : 
"they're  coming  on  us;  I  don't  want  to  see  you  butchered 
like  an  ox.  One  word,  captain! — I'll  take  your  word; 
you're  an  honest  feller,  and  I'll  believe  in  you;  jist  one 
word,  captain.  I'll  help  you;  I'll  fight  the  dogs  for  you; 
I'll  give  you  weapons.  The  gal,  captain !  life  and  the  f or- 
tun',  captain! — the  gal!  the  gal!" 

"Never,  I  tell  you,  never!"  cried  Roland,  who,  faithful 
to  the  honor  and  integrity  of  spirit  which  conducted  the 
men  of  that  day,  the  mighty  fathers  of  the  republic  through 
the  vicissitudes  of  revolution  to  the  rewards  of  liberty, 
would  not  stoop  to  the  meanness  of  falsehood  and  decep- 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  353 

tion,  even  in  that  moment  of  peril  and  fear; — "any  thing 
but  that— but  that,  never !" 

But,  whilst  he  spoke,  Doe,  urged  on  by  his  own  impetu- 
ous feelings,  had  cut  the  thong  from  his  wrists,  and  was 
even  proceeding  to  divide  those  that  bound  his  ankles,  dis- 
regarding all  his  protestations  and  averments,  or  perhaps 
drowning  them  in  his  own  eager  exclamations  of,  "The 
gal,  captain, — the  word,  jist  one  word !"  when  a  dozen  or 
more  savages  burst  into  the  hut,  and  sprang  upon  the 
Virginian,  yelling,  cursing,  and  flourishing  their  knives 
and  hatchets,  as  if  they  would  have  torn  him  to  pieces  on 
the  spot.  And  such,  undoubtedly,  was  the  aim  of  some 
of  the  younger  men,  who  struck  at  him  several  furious 
blows,  that  were  only  averted  by  the  older  warriors  at  the 
expense  of  some  of  their  own  blood  shed  in  the  struggle, 
which  was,  for  a  moment,  as  fiercely  waged  over  the 
prisoner,  as  the  conflict  of  enraged  hounds  over  the  body 
of  a  disabled  panther,  that  all  are  emulous  to  worry  and 
tear. 

One  instant  of  dreadful  confusion,  of  shrieks,  blows, 
and  maledictions,  and  the  Virginian  was  snatched  up  in 
the  arms  of  two  or  thre'e  of  the  strongest  men,  and  dragged 
from  the  hut;  but  only  to  find  himself  surrounded  by  a 
herd  of  villagers,  men,  women,  and  children,  who  fell  upon 
him  with  as  much  fury  as  the  young  warriors  had  done, 
beating  him  with  bludgeons,  wounding  him  with  their 
knives,  so  that  it  seemed  impossible  the  older  braves  could 
protect  him  much  longer.  But  others  ran  to  their  assist- 
ance; and  forming  a  circle  around  him,  so  as  to  exclude 
the  mob,  he  was  borne  onwards,  in  temporary  security,  but 
destined  to  a  fate  to  which  murder  on  the  spot  would  have 
been  gentleness  and  mercy. 

The  tumult  haa  roused  Edith  also  from  her  painful 
slumbers;  and  the  more  necessarily,  since  although  re- 
moved from  the  tent'  in  which  she  was  first  imprisoned, 
she  was  still  confined  in  Wenonga's  wigwam.  It  was  the 
scream  of  the  hag,  the  chieftain's  wife,  who  had  discovered 
his  body,  that  first  gave  the  alarm;  and  the  villagers  all 


354  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

rushing  to  the  cabin,  and  yelling  their  astonishment  and 
terror,  there  arose  an  uproar,  almost  in  her  ears,  that  was 
better  fitted  to  fright  her  to  death  than  to  lull  her  to  re- 
pose. She  started  from  her  couch,  and,  with  a  woman's 
weakness,  cowered  away  in  the  furthest  corner  of  the  lodge, 
to  escape  the  pitiless  foes,  whom  her  fears  represented  as 
already  seeking  her  life.  Nor  was  this  chimera  banished 
from  her  mind,  when  a  man,  rushing  in,  snatched  her 
from  her  ineffectual  concealment,  and  hurried  her  towards 
the  door.  But  her  terrors  ran  in  another  channel  when 
the  ravisher,  conquering  the  feeble  resistance  she  attempted, 
replied  to  her  wild  entreaties  "not  to  kill  her/'  in  the  well- 
remembered  voice  of  Braxley. 

"Kill  you,  indeed!"  he  muttered,  but  with  agitated 
tones ; — "I  come  to  save  you ;  even  you  are  in  danger  from 
the  maddened  villains ;  they  are  murdering  all !  We  must 
fly, — ay,  and  fast.  My  horse  is  saddled, — the  woods  are 
open — I  will  yet  save  you.7' 

"Spare  me; — for  my  uncle's  sake,  who  was  your  bene- 
factor, spare  me!"  cried  Edith,  struggling  to  free  herself 
from  his  grasp.  But  she  struggled  in  vain.  "I  struggle 
to  save  you,"  cried  Braxley;  and  without  uttering  another 
word,  bore  her  from  the  hut;  and,  still  grasping  her  with 
an  arm  of  iron,  sprang  upon  a  saddled  horse, — the  identical 
animal  that  had  once  sustained  the  weight  of  the  unfor- 
tunate Pardon  Dodge, — which  stood  under  the  elm-tree, 
trembling  with  fright  at  the  scene  of  horror  then  repre- 
sented on  the  square 

Upon  this  vacant  space  was  now  assembled  the  whole 
population  of  the  village,  old  and  young,  the  strong  and 
the  feeble,  all  agitated  alike  by  those  passions  which,  when 
let  loose  in  a  mob,  whether  civilized  or  savage,  almost  en- 
force the  conviction  that  there  is  something  essentially 
demoniac  in  the  human  character  and  composition;  as  if, 
indeed,  the  earth  of  which  man  is  framed,  had  been  gath- 
ered only  after  it  had  been  trodden  by  the  foot  of  the 
Prince  of  Darkness. 

Even  Edith  forgot  for  a  moment  her  fears  of  Braxley, — 


NICK   OF    THE    WOODS.  355 

nay,  she  clung  to  him  for  protection, — when  her  eye  fell 
upon  the  savage  herd,  of  whom  the  chief  number  were 
crowded  together,  in  the  centre  of  the  square,  surrounding 
some  object  rendered  invisible  by  their  bodies,  while  others 
were  rushing  tumultuously  hither  and  thither,  driven  by 
causes  she  could  not  divine,  brandishing  weapons,  and 
uttering  howls  without  number.  One  large  party  was 
passing  from  the  wigwam  itself,  their  cries  not  less  loud 
or  ferocious  than  the  others,  but  changing  occasionally 
into  piteous  lamentations.  They  bore  in  their  arms  the 
body  of  the  murdered  chief, — an  object  of  such  horror, 
that  when  Edith's  eyes  had  once  fallen  upon  it,  it  seemed 
as  if  her  enthralled  spirit  would  never  have  recovered 
strength  to  remove  them. 

But  there  was  a  more  fearful  spectacle  yet  to  be  seen. 
The  wife  of  Wenonga  suddenly  rushed  from  the  lodge, 
bearing  a  fire-brand  in  her  hand.  She  ran  to  the  body  of 
the  chief,  eyed  it  for  a  moment,  with  such  a  look  as  a 
tigeress  might  cast  upon  her  slaughtered  cub;  and  then, 
uttering  a  scream  that  was  heard  over  the  whole  square, 
and  whirling  the  brand  round  her  head,  until  it  was  in  a 
flame,  fled  with  frantic  speed  towards  the  centre  of  the 
area,  the  mob  parting  before  her,  and  replying  to  her 
shrieks,  which  were  uttered  at  every  step,  with  outcries 
scarce  less  wild  and  thrilling.  As  they  parted  thus,  open- 
ing a  vista  to  the  heart  of  the  square,  the  object  which 
seemed  the  centre  of  attraction  to  all,  was  fully  revealed  to 
the  maiden's  eyes. 

Chained  to  two  strong  posts  near  the  Council-house, 
their  arms  drawn  high  above  their  heads,  a  circle  of  brush- 
wood, prairie-grass,  and  other  combustibles  heaped  around 
them,  were  two  wretched  captives, — white  men,  from  whose 
persons  a  dozen  savage  hands  were  tearing  their  garments, 
while  as  many  more  were  employed  heaping  additional 
fuel  on  the  pile.  One  of  these  men,  as  Edith  could  see 
full  well,  for  the  spectacle  was  scarce  an  hundred  paces  re- 
moved, was  Eoaring  Ralph,  the  captain  of  the  horse-thieves. 
The  other — and  that  was  a  sight  to  rend  her  eye-balls  from 


356  ICK   OF   THE    WOODS. 


their  sockets,  —  was  her  unfortunate  kinsman,  —  the  play* 
mate  of  her  childhood,  the  friend  and  lover  of  maturer 
years,  —  her  cousin,  —  brother,  —  her  all,  —  Roland  Fbrrester. 
It  was  no  error  of  sight,  no  delusion  of  mind  •  the  spectacle 
was  too  palpable  to  be  doubted;  it  was  Eoland  Forrester 
whom  she  saw  chained  to  the  stake,  surrounded  by  yelling 
and  pitiless  barbarians,  impatient  for  the  commencement 
of  their  infernal  pastime,  while  the  wife  of  the  chief,  kneel- 
ing at  the  pile,  was  already  endeavoring  with  her  brand 
to  kindle  it  into  flame. 

The  shriek  of  the  wretched  maiden,  as  she  beheld  the 
deplorable,  the  maddening  sight,  might  have  melted  hearts 
of  stone,  had  there  been  even  such  among  the  Indians. 
But  Indians,  engaged  in  the  delights  of.  torturing  a  pris- 
oner, are  as  the  dead  chief  had  boasted  himself,  without 
heart.  Pity,  which  the  Indian  can  feel  at  another  moment, 
as  deeply,  perhaps,  and  benignly  as  a  white  man,  seems 
then,  and  is,  entirely  unknown  —  as  much  so,  indeed,  as  if 
it  had  never  entered  into  his  nature.  His  mind  is  then 
voluntarily  given  up  to  the  drunkenness  of  passion;  and 
cruelty,  in  its  most  atrocious  and  fiendish  character,  reigns 
predominant.  The  familiar  of  a  Spanish  Inquisition  has 
sometimes  moistened  the  lips  of  a  heretic  stretched  upon 
the  rack,  —  the  buccaneer  of  the  tropics  has  relented  over 
the  contumacious  prisoner  gasping  to  death  under  his 
lashes  and  heated  pincers;  but  we  know  of  no  instance 
where  an  Indian,  torturing  a  prisoner  at  the  stake,  the 
torture  once  begun,  has  ever  been  moved  to  compassionate, 
to  regard  with  any  feelings  but  those  of  exultation  and  joy, 
the  agonies  of  the  thrice-wretched  victim. 

The  shriek  of  the  maiden  was  unheard,  or  unregarded; 
and  Braxley,  —  himself  so  horrified  by  the  spectacle,  that, 
while  pausing  to  give  it  a  glance,  he  forgot  the  delay  was 
also  disclosing  it  to  Edith,  —  grasping  her  tighter  in  his 
arms,  from  which  she  had  half  leaped  in  her  frensy,  turned 
his  horse's  head  to  fly,  without  seeming  to  be  regarded  or 
observed  by  the  savages,  which  was  perhaps  in  part  owing 
to  his  having  resumed  his  Indian  attire.  But,  as  he  turned 


NICK   OF   THE   WOODS.  357 

/ 

he  could  not  resist  the  impulse  to  snatch  one  more  look  at 
his  doomed  rival.  A  universal  yell  of  triumph  sounded 
over  the  square ;  the  flames  were  already  bursting  from  the 
pile,  and  the  torture  was  begun. 

The  torture  was  begun,  but  it  was  not  destined  long  tj 
endure.  The  yell  of  triumph  was  yet  resounding  over  the 
square  and  awaking  responsive  echoes  among  the  surround- 
ing hills,  when  the  explosion  of  at  least  fifty  rifles  sharp, 
rattling,  and  deadly,  like  the  war-note  of  the  rattlesnake, 
followed  by  a  mighty  hurrah  of  Christian  voices,  and  the 
galloping  of  horse  into  the  village  from  above,  converted 
the  whole  scene  into  one  of  amazement  and  terror.  The 
volley  was  repeated,  and  by  as  many  more  guns ;  and  in  an 
instant  there  was  seen  rushing  into  the  square  a  body  of 
at  least  an  hundred  mounted  white  men,  their  horses  cov- 
ered with  foam,  and  staggering  with  exhaustion,  yet 
spurred  on  by  their  riders  with  furious  ardor;  while  twice 
as  many  footmen  were  beheld  rushing  after,  in  mad  rivalry, 
cheering  and  shouting,  in  reply  to  their  leader,  whose  voice 
was  heard  in  front  of  the  horsemen,  thundering  out — 
"Small  change  for  the  Blue  Licks!  Charge  'em,  the 
brutes !  give  it  to  'em  handsome  I" 

The  yells  of  dismay  of  the  savages,  taken  thus  by  sur- 
prise, and,  as  it  seemed,  by  a  greatly  superior  force,  whose 
approach,  rapid  and  tumultuous  as  it  must  have  been,  their 
universal  devotion  to  the  Saturnalia  of  blood  had  rendered 
them  incapable  of  perceiving — the  shouts  of  the  mounted 
assailants,  as  they  dashed  into  the  square  and  among  the 
mob,  shouting  as  they  came,  or  handling  their  rifles  like 
maces  and  battle-axes — the  trampling  and  neighing  of  the 
horses,  and  the  thundering  hurras  of  the  footmen  charging 
into  the  town  with  almost  the  speed  of  the  horse — made  a 
din  too  horrible  for  description. 

The  shock  of  the  assault  was  not  resisted  by  the  Indians 
even  for  a  moment.  Some  rushed  to  the  neighboring  wig- 
wams for  their  guns ;  but  the  majority,  like  the  women  and 
children,  fled  to  seek  refuge  among  the  rocks  and  bushes  of 
the  over-hanging  hill;  from  which,  however,  as  they  ap- 


358  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

proached  it,  a  deadly  volley  was  shot  upon  them  by  foe-. 
men  who  already  occupied  its  tangled  sides.  Others  again 
fled  towards  the  meadows  and  corn-fields,  where,  in  like 
manner,  they  were  intercepted  by  bands  of  mounted  Long- 
knives,  who  seemed  pouring  into  the  valley  from  every  hill. 
In  short,  it  was  soon  made  apparent  that  the  village  of  the 
Black  Vulture  was  assailed  from  all  sides,  and  by  such  an 
army  of  avenging  white  men  as  had  never  before  penetrated 
into  the  Indian  territory. 

All  the  savages, — all,  at  least,  who  were  not  shot  or 
struck  down  in  the  square, — fled  from  the  village;  and 
among  the  foremost  of  them  was  Braxley,  who,  as  much 
astounded  as  his  Indian  confederates,  but  better  prepared 
for  flight,  struck  the  spurs  into  his  horse,  and,  still  retain- 
ing his  helpless  prize,  dashed  across  the  river,  to  escape  as 
he  might. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  victims  at  the  stake,  though  roused 
to  hope  and  life  by  the  sudden  appearance  of  their  country- 
men, were  neither  released  from  bonds  nor  perils.  Though 
the  savages  fled,  as  described,  from  the  charge  of  the  white 
men,  there  were  some  who  remembered  the  prisoners,  and 
were  resolved  that  they  should  never  taste  the  sweets  of 
liberty.  The  beldam,  who  was  still  busy  kindling  the  pile, 
roused  from  her  toil  by  the  shouts  of  the  enemy  and  the 
shrieks  of  her  flying  people,  looked  up  a  moment;  and 
then,  snatching  at  a  knife  dropped  by  some  fugitive,  rushed 
upon  Stackpole,  who  was  nearest  her,  with  a  wild  scream 
of  revenge.  The  horse-thief,  avoiding  the  blow  as  well  as 
he  could,  saluted  the  hag  with  a  furious  kick,  his  feet 
being  entirely  at  liberty;  and  such  was  its  violence  that 
the  woman  was  tossed  into  the  air,  as  if  from  the  horns  of 
a  bull,  and  then  fell,  stunned  and  apparently  lifeless,  to 
perish  in  the  flames  she  had  kindled  with  her  own  breath. 

A  tall  warrior,  hatchet  in  hand,  with  a  dozen  more  at  his 
back,  rushed  upon  the  Virginian.  But  before  he  could 
strike,  there  came  leaping  with  astonishing  bounds  over  the 
bodies  of  the  wounded  and  dying,  and  into  the  circle  of 
fire,  a  figure  that  might  have  filled  a  better  and  braver  war- 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  359 

rior  with  dread.  It  was  the  medicine-man,  and  former 
captive,  the  Indian  habiliments  and  paint  still  on  his  body 
and  visage,  though  both  were  flecked  and  begrimed  with 
blood.  In  his  left  hand  was  a  bundle  of  scalps,  the  same 
he  had  taken  from  the  tent  of  Wenonga ;  the  grizzled  scalp- 
lock  of  the  chief,  known  by  the  vulture  feathers,  beak,  and 
talons  still  attached  to  it,  was  hanging  to  his  girdle,  while 
the  steel  battle-axe,  so  often  wielded  by  Wenonga,  was 
gleaming  aloft  in  his  right  hand. 

The  savage  recoiled,  and  with  loud  yells  of  "The  Jibbe- 
nainosay!  the  Jibbenainosay  I"  turned  to  fly,  while  even 
those  behind  him  staggered  back  at  the  apparition  of  the 
destroyer,  thus  tangibly  presented  to  their  eyes;  nor  was 
their  awe  lessened,  when  the  supposed  fiend,  taking  one 
step  after  the  retreating  leader  of  the  gang,  drove  the  fatal 
hatchet  into  his  brain,  with  as  lusty  a  whoop  of  victory  as 
ever  came  from  the  lungs  of  a  warrior.  At  the  same  mo- 
ment he  was  hidden  from  their  eyes  by  a  dozen  horsemen 
that  came  rushing  up,  with  tremendous  huzzas,  some  dart- 
ing against  the  band,  while  others  sprung  from  their  horses 
to  liberate  the  prisoners.  But  this  duty  had  been  already 
rendered,  at  least  in  the  case  of  Captain  Forrester.  The 
axe  of  Wenonga,  dripping  with  blood  to  the  hilt,  divided 
the  rope  at  a  single  blow;  and  then  Eoland's  fingers  were 
crushed  in  the  grasp  of  his  preserver,  as  the  latter  ex- 
claimed, with  a  strange,  half -frantic  chuckle  of  triumph 
and  delight: — 

"Thee  sees,  friend !  Thee  thought  I  had  deserted  thee ! 
Truly,  truly,  thee  was  mistaken !" 

"Hurrah  for  old  Bloody  Nathan !  I'll  never  say  Q  to  a 
Quaker  agin,  as  long  as  I  live!"  exclaimed  another  voice, 
broken,  feeble,  and  vainly  aiming  to  raise  a  huzza ;  and  the 
speaker,  seizing  Nathan  with  one  hand,  while  the  other 
grasped  tremulously  at  Captain  Forrester's,  displayed  to 
the  latter's  eyes  the  visage  of  Tom  Bruce  the  younger,  pale, 
sickly,  emaciated,  his  once  gigantic  proportions  wasted 
away,  and  his  whole  appearance  indicating  any  thing  but 
fitness  for  a  field  of  battle,  - 


360  NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"Strannger!"  cried  the  youth,  pressing  the  soldier's 
hand  with  what  strength  he  could,  and  laughing  faintly, 
"we've  done  the  handsome  thing  by  you,  me  and  dad,  thar's 
no  denying !  But  we  went  your  security  agin  all  sorts  of 
danngers  in  our  beat;  and  thar's  just  the  occasion.  But 
h'yar's  dad  to  speak  for  himself ;  as  for  me,  I  rather  think 
breath's  too  short  for  wasting." 

^Hurrah  for  Kentucky !"  roared  the  colonel  of  the  sta- 
tion, as  he  sprang  from  his  horse  and  seized  the  hand  his 
son  had  released,  wringing  and  twisting  it  with  a  fury  of 
friendship  and  gratulation,  which,  at  another  moment, 
would  have  caused  the  soldier  to  grin  with  pain.  "H'yar 
we  are,  captain!"  he  cried;  "picked  you  out  of  the  yam- 
bers ! — swore  to  f oiler  you  and  young  madam  to  the  eend 
of  creation, — beat  up  for  recruits,  sung  out  'Blue  Lick'  to 
the  people,  roused  the  general  from  the  Falls — whole  army, 
a  thousand  men: — double  quick-step; — found  Bloody  Na- 
than in  the  woods — whar's  the  creatur'? — told  of  your 
fixin';  beat  to  arms,  flew  ahead,  licked  the  enemy, — and 
ha'n't  we  exterminated  'em?" 

With  these  hurried,  half  incoherent  expressions,  the  gal- 
lant Kentuckian  explained,  or  endeavored  to  explain,  the 
mystery  of  his  timely  and  most  happy  appearance;  an 
explanation,  however,  of  which  the  soldier  bewildered  by 
the  whirl  of  events,  the  tumult  of  his  own  feelings,  and 
not  less  by  the  uproarious  congratulations  of  his  friends,  of 
whom  the  captain  of  horse-thieves,  released  from  his  post 
of  danger,  was  not  the  least  noisy  or  affectionate,  heard,  or 
understood,  not  a  word.  To  these  causes  of  confusion  were 
to  be  added  the  din  and  tumult  of  conflict,  the  screams  of 
the  flying  Indians,  and  the  shouts  of  pursuing  and  oppos- 
ing white  men,  rising  from  every  point  of  the  compass; 
for  from  every  point  they  seemed  rushing  in  upon  the  foe, 
whom  they  appeared  to  have  completely  environed. 

Was  there  no  other  cause  for  the  distraction  of  mind 
which  left  the  young  soldier,  while  thus  beset  by  friendly 
hands  and  voices,  incapable  of  giving  them  his  whole 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  361 

attention?  His  thoughts  were  upon  his  kinswoman,  of 
whose  fate  he  was  still  in  ignorance. 

But  before  he  could  ask  the  question  prompted  by  his 
anxieties,  it  was  answered  by  a  cheery  hurrah  from  Bruce's 
youngest  son,  Ei chard,  who  came  galloping  into  the  square, 
and  up  to  the  place  of  torture,  whirling  his  cap  into  the 
air,  in  a  frensy  of  boyish  triumph  and  rapture.  At  his 
heels,  and  mounted  upon  the  steed  so  lately  bestridden  by 
Braxley,  the  very  animal,  which,  notwithstanding  its  un- 
common swimming  virtues,  had  left  its  master,  Pardon 
Dodge,  at  the  bottom  of  Salt  River,  was — could  Roland  be- 
lieve his  eyes  ? — the  identical  Pardon  Dodge  himself,  look- 
ing a  hero,  he  was  so  begrimed  with  blood  and  gunpowder, 
and  whooping  and  hurrahing,  as  he  came,  with  as  much 
spirit  as  if  he  had  been  born  on  the  border,  and  accustomed 
all  his  life  to  fighting  Indians. 

But  Roland  did  not  wonder  long  at  the  unlooked-for 
resurrection  of  his  old  ally  of  the  ruin.  In  his  arms,  sus- 
tained with  an  air  of  infinite  pride  and  exultation,  was  an 
apparition  that  blinded  the  Virginian's  eyes  to  every  other 
object; — it  was  Edith  Forrester,  who,  extending  her  own 
arms,  as  the  soldier  sprang  to  meet  her,  leaped  to  his  em- 
brace with  such  wild  cries  of  delight,  such  abandonment 
of  spirit  to  love  and  happiness,  as  stirred  up  many  a  wo- 
manish emotion  in  the  breast  of  the  surrounding  Ken- 
tuckians. 

"There !"  cried  Dodge,  "there,  capting !  Seed  the  ever- 
lasting Injun  feller  carrying  her  off  on  the  hoss;  knowed 
the  crittur  at  first  sight ;  took  atter,  and  brought  the  feller 
to ;  seed  it  was  the  young  lady,  and  was  jist  as  glad  to  find 
her  as  to  find  my  hoss, — if  I  wa'n't,  it  a'n't  no  matter." 

"Thar,  dad !"  cried  Tom  Bruce,  grasping  his  father's 
arm,  and  pointing,  but  with  unsteady  finger  and  glisten- 
ing eye,  at  the  two  cousins, — "that,  that's  a  sight  worth 
dying  for!"  with  which  words  he  fell  suddenly  to  the 
earth. 

"Dying,  you  brute !"  cried  the  father,  in  surprise  and  con- 
cern; "you  ar'n't  had  a  hit,_  Tom?" 


362  NICK    OP    THE    WOODS. 

"Not  an  iota/'  replied  the  youth,  faintly,  "except  them 
etarnal  slugs  I  fetched  from  old  Salt ;  but,  I  reckon,  they've 
done  for  me ;  I  felt  'em  a  dropping,  a  dropping  inside,  all 
night.  And  so,  father,  if  you'll  jist  say  I've  done  as  much 
as  my  duty,  I'll  not  make  no  fuss  about  going." 

"Going,  you  brute!"  iterated  the  father,  clasping  the 
hand  of  his  son,  while  the  others,  startled  by  the  young 
man's  sudden  fall,  gathered  around  to  offer  help  or  to 
gaze  with  alarm  on  his  fast  changing  countenance;  "why, 
Tom,  my  boy,  you  don't  mean  to  make  a  die  of  it?" 

"If — if  you  think  I've  done  my  duty  to  the  strannger 
and  the  young  lady,"  said  the  young  man;  and  added, 
feebly  pressing  the  father's  hand, — "and  to  you,  dad, — to 
you  and  mother,  and  the  rest  of  'em." 

"You  have,  Tom,"  said  the  colonel,  with  somewhat  a 
husky  voice — "to  the  travelling  strannger,  to  mother,  father 
and  all " 

"And  to  Kentucky?"  murmured  the  dying  youth. 

"To  Kentucky,"  replied  the  father. 

"Well,  then,  it's  no  great  matter.  You'll  jist  put  Dick 
in  my  place;  he's  the  true  grit;  thar'll  be  no  mistake  in 
Dick,  for  all  he's  only  a  young  blubbering  boy;  and  then 
it'll  be  jist  all  right  as  before.  And  it's  my  notion, 
father " 

"Well,  Tom,  what  is  it?"  demanded  Bruce,  as  the  young 
man  paused,  as  if  from  mingled  exhaustion  and  hesita- 
tion. 

"I  don't  mean  no  offence,  father,"  said  he — "but  it's  my 
notion,  if  you'll  never  let  a  poor  traveller  go  into  the 
woods  without  some  dependable  body  to  take  care  of 
him " 

"You're  right,  Tom;  and  I  an't  mad  at  you  for  saying 
so ;  and  I  won't." 

"And  don't  let  the  boys  abuse  Bloody  Nathan,  for,  I 
reckon,  he'll  figM,  if  you  let  him  take  it  in  his  own  way. 
And, — and,  father,  don't  mind  Captain  Kalph's  stealing  a 
hoss  or  two  out  of  our  pound !" 

"He  may  steal  a  lot  of  ?em,  the  villain!"  said. Bruce, 


NICK    OF    THE   WOODS.  363 

shaking  his  head  to  dislodge  the  tears  that  were  starting 
in  his  eyes;  "and  he  shall  be  none  the  wuss  of  it." 

"Well,  father," — the  young  man  spoke  with  greater  ani- 
mation, and  with  apparently  reviving  strength, — "and  you 
think  we  have  pretty  considerably  licked  the  Injun's  h'yar, 
jist  now?" 

"We  have,  Tom, — thar's  no  doubting  it.  And  we'll 
lick  'em  over  and  over  again,  till  they've  had  enough  of 
it." 

"Hurrah  for  Kentucky !"  cried  the  young  man,  exerting 
his  remaining  strength  to  give  energy  to  the  cry,  so  often 
uplifted,  in  succeeding  years,  among  the  wild  woodlands 
around.  It  was  the  last  efforts  of  his  sinking  powers.  He 
fell  back,  pressed  his  father's  and  his  brother's  hands,  and 
almost  immediately  expired, — a  victim  not  so  much  of  his 
wounds,  which  were  not  in  themselves  necessarily  fatal, 
nor  perhaps  even  dangerous,  had  they  been  attended  to,  as 
of  the  heroic  efforts,  so  overpowering  and  destructive  in  his 
disabled  condition,  which  he  had  made  to  repair  his  father's 
fault;  for  such  he  evidently  esteemed  the  dismissing  the 
travellers  from  the  station  without  sufficient  guides  and 
protection. 


CHAPTEE  XXXV. 

And  Retribution,   of  delay  grown  tir'd, 

Hath  smote  the  villains.  — J.non. 

THUS  fell  the  young  Kentuckian,  a  youth  endeared  to 
all  who  knew  him,  by  his  courage  and  good  humor;  and 
whose  fall  would,  at  a  moment  of  less  confusion,  have 
created  a  deep  and  melancholy  sensation.  But  he  fell 
amid  the  roar  and  tempest  of  battle,  when  there  was  oc- 
casion for  other  thoughts  and  other  feelings  than  those  of 
mere  individual  grief. 

The  Indians  had  been  driven  from  their  village  as  de- 
scribed, aiming  not  to  fight  but  to  fly;  but  being  inter- 


364  NICK   OF    THE    WOODS. 

cepted  at  all  points  by  the  assailants,  and  met,  here  by 
furious  volleys  poured  from  the  bushy  sides  of  the  hill, 
there  by  charges  of  horsemen,  galloping  through  the  mea- 
dows and  corn-fields,  they  were  again  driven  back  into  the 
town,  where,  in  sheer  desperation,  they  turned  on  their 
foes  to  sell  their  lives  as  dearly  as  they  might. 

They  were  met  at  the  edge  of  the  village  by  a  party  of 
horse  and  footmen  that  at  first  dislodged  them,  with  whom, 
being  driven  pell-mell  among  them  by  the  shock  of  the  in- 
tercepting bands,  they  waged  a  fierce  and  bloody,  but  brief 
conflict ;  and  still  urged  on  by  the  assailants  behind,  fought 
their  way  back  to  the  square,  which,  deserted  almost  en- 
tirely at  the  period  of  young  Bruce's  fall,  was  now  sud- 
denly seen,  as  he  drew  his  last  gasp,  scattered  over  with 
groups  of  men  flying  for  their  lives,  or  struggling  to- 
gether in  mortal  combat ;  while  the  screams  of  terror-struck 
women  and  children  gave  a  double  horror  to  the  din. 

The  return  of  the  battle  to  their  own  immediate  vicinity 
produced  its  effects  upon  the  few  who  had  remained  by 
the  dying  youth.  It  fired,  in  especial,  the  blood  of  Cap- 
tain Ralph,  who,  snatching  up  a  fallen  axe,  rushed  towards 
the  nearest  combatants,  roaring,  by  way  of  consolation,  or 
sympathy,  to  the  bereaved  father,  "Don't  take  it  hard, 
cunnel, — I'll  have  a  scalp  for  Tom's  sake  in  no  time !" 

As  for  Bloody  Nathan,  he  had  disappeared  long  before, 
with  most  of  the  horsemen  who  had  galloped  up  to  the  stake 
with  the  younger  Bruce  and  his  father,  being  evidently 
too  fiercely  excited  to  remain  idle  any  longer.  The  father 
and  brother  of  the  deceased,  the  two  cousins,  and  Pardon 
Dodge,  who  lingered  by  the  latter,  still  on  his  horse,  as  if 
old  companionship  with  the  soldier,  and  the  service  just 
rendered  the  maid,  had  attached  him  to  all  their  interests., 
were  all  that  remained  on  the  spot.  But  all  were  driven 
from  a  contemplation  of  the  dead  as  the  surge  of  battle 
again  tossed  its  bloody  spray  into  the  square. 

"Thar's  no  time  for  weeping,"  muttered  Bruce,  softly 
laying  the  body  of  the  youth  (for  Tom  had  expired  in  his 
arms)  upon  the  earth ;  "he  died  like  a  man,  and  thar's  the 


NICK   OF   THE   WOODS.  365 

eend  of  it.     Up,  Dick,  and  stand  by  the  lady — thar's  more 
work  for  us." 

"Everlasting  bad  work,  cunnel!"  cried  Dodge;  "they're 
a  killing  the  squaws !  hark,  dun't  you  hear  'em  squeaking  ? 
Now,  cunnel,  I  can  kill  your  'tarnal  man  fellers,  for  they've 
riz  my  ebenezer,  and  I've  kinder  got  my  hand  in;  but  I 
rather  calkilate  I  han't  no  disposition  to  kill  wimming !" 

"Close  round  the  lady !"  shouted  Bruce,  as  a  sudden 
movement  in  the  mass  of  combatants,  and  the  parting  fromi) 
it  of  a  dozen  or  more  wild  Indian  figures,  flying  in  their 
confusion,  for  they  were  pursued  by  thrice  their  number 
of  white  men,  right  towards  the  little  party  at  the  stake, 
threatening  the  latter  with  unexpected  danger. 

"I'm  the  feller  for  'em,  now  that  my  hand's  in !"  cried 
Pardon  Dodge ;  and  taking  aim  with  his  rifle,  the  only  one 
in  the  group  that  was  charged,  at  the  foremost  of  the  In- 
dians, he  shot  him  dead  on  the  spot, — a  feat  that  instantly 
removed  all  danger  from  the  party;  for  the  savages,  yell- 
ing at  the  fall  of  their  leader,  and  the  discovery  of  an- 
tagonists thus  drawn  up  in  front,  darted  off  to  the  right 
hand  at  the  wildest  speed,  as  wildly  pursued  by  the  greater 
number  of  Kentuckians. 

And  now  it  was  that,  as  the  wretched  and  defeated  bar- 
barians, scattering  at  Dodge's  fire,  fled  from  the  spot,  the 
party  at  the  stake  beheld  a  sight  well  fitted  to  turn  the 
alarm  they  had  for  a  moment  felt  on  their  own  account, 
into  horror  and  pity.  The  savage  shot  down  by  Dodge  was 
instantly  scalped  by  one  of  the  pursuers,  of  whom  five  or 
six  others  rushed  upon  another  man — for  a  second  of  the 
fugitives  had  fallen  at  the  same  moment,  but  only  wounded, 
— attacking  him  furiously  with  knives  and  hatchets,  while 
the  poor  wretch  was  seen  with  raised  arms  vainly  beseech- 
ing for  quarter.  As  if  this  spectacle  was  not  in  itself 
sufficiently  pitiable,  there  was  seen  a  girlish  figure  at  the 
man's  side,  struggling  with  the  assailants,  as  if  to  throw 
herself  between  them  and  their  prey,  and  uttering  the  most 
heart-piercing  shrieks. 

"It  is  Telie  Doe/'  shouted  Forrester,  leaping  from  his 


366  KICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

kinswoman's  side,  and  rushing  with  the  speed  of  light  to 
her  assistance.  He  was  followed,  at  almost  as  fleet  a 
step,  by  Colonel  Bruce,  who  recognized  the  voice  at  the 
same  instant,  and  knew,  by  the  ferocious  cries  of  the  men, 
— "Kill  the  accursed  tory !  kill  the  renegade  villain !"  that 
it  was  the  girl's  apostate  father,  Abel  Doe,  who  was  dying 
under  their  vengeful  weapons. 

"Hold,  friends,  hold !"  cried  Eoland,  as  he  sprang  amid 
the  infuriated  Kentuckians.  His  interposition  was  for  a 
moment  successful;  surprise  arrested  the  impending  wea- 
pons; and  Doe,  taking  advantage  of  the  pause,  leaped  to 
his  feet,  ran  a  few  yards,  and  then  fell  again  to  the  ground. 

"No  quarter  for  turn-coats  and  traitors!  no  mercy  for 
white  Injuns!"  cried  the  angry  men,  running  again  at 
their  prey.  But  Eoland  was  before  them;  and  as  he  be- 
strode the  wounded  man,  the  gigantic  Bruce  rushed  up, 
and  catching  the  frensied  daughter  in  his  arms,  exclaimed, 
with  tones  of  thunder,  "Off,  you  perditioned  brutes !  would 
you  kill  the  man  before  the  eyes  of  his  own  .Jtteral-born 
daughter?  Kill  Injuns,  you  brutes, — thar's  the  meat  for 
you!" 

''Hurrah  for  Gunnel  Tom  Bruce !"  shouted  the  men  in 
reply;  and  satisfying  their  rage  with  direful  execrations, 
invoked  upon  "all  white  Injuns,  and  Injun  white  men," 
they  rushed  away  in  pursuit  of  more  legitimate  objects  of 
hostility,  if  such  were  still  to  be  found, — a  thing  not  so 
certain,  for  few  Indian  whoops  were  now  mingled  with 
the  white  man's  cry  of  victory. 

In  the  meanwhile  Eoland  had  endeavored  to  raise  the 
bleeding  and  mangled  renegade  to  his  feet;  but  in  vain, 
though  assisted  by  the  efforts  of  the  unhappy  wretch  him- 
self;  who,  raising  his  hands,  as  if  to  avert  the  blows  of 
an  unrelenting  enemy,  ejaculated  wildly, — "It  ain't  noth- 
ing,— it's  only  for  the  gal — don't  murder  a  father  before 
his  own  child." 

"You  are  safe, — fear  nothing,"  said  Eoland,  and  at  the 
same  moment  poor  Telie  herself  rushed  into  the  dying 
man's  arms,  crying,  with  tones  that  went  to  the  Virginian's 


NICK   OF   THE    WOODS. 

heart, — "They're  gone,  father,  they're  gone !  Now  get  up, 
father,  and  they  won't  hurt  you  no  more ;  the  good  captain 
has  saved  you,  father;  they  won't  hurt  you,  they  won't  hurt 
you  no  more." 

"Is  it  the  captain  ?"  cried  Doe,  struggling  again  to  rise, 
while  Bruce  drew  the  girl  gently  from  his  arms:  "Is  it 
the  captain?"  he  repeated,  bending  his  eager  looks  and 
countenance,  ghastly  with  wounds,  upon  the  Virginian. 
"They  han't  murdering  you  then?  I'm  glad  on  it,  cap- 
tain ; — I'll  die  easier,  captain !  And  the  gal  too  ?"  he  ex- 
claimed, as  his  eye  fell  upon  Edith,  who  scarce  knowing  in 
her  horror  what  she  did,  but  instinctively  seeking  the  pro- 
tection of  her  kinsman,  had  crept  up  to  the  group  now 
around  the  dying  wretch — "It's  all  right,  captain?  But 
where's  Dick?  where's  Dick  Braxley?  You  han't  killed 
him  among  you  ?" 

"Think  not  of  the  villain,"  said  Roland;  "I  know 
nought  of  him." 

"I'm  a  dying  man,  captain,"  exclaimed  Doe;  "I  know'd 
this  would  be  the  end  of  it.  If  Dick's  a  prisoner,  jist 
bring  him  up  and  let  me  speak  with  him.  It  will  be  for 
your  good,  captain." 

"I  know  nothing  of  the  scoundrel — think  of  yourself," 
said  the  Virginian. 

"Why,  there,  don't  I  see  his  red  han'kercher !"  cried 
Doe,  pointing  to  Dodge,  who,  from  his  horse,  which  he 
had  not  yet  deserted,  perhaps,  from  fear  of  again  losing 
him,  sat  looking  with  soldier-like  composure  on  the  ex- 
piring renegade,  until  made  conscious  that  the  shawl  which 
he  had  tied  round' his  waist,  somewhat  in  the  manner  of  an 
officer's  sash,  had  become  an  object  of  interest  to  Doe  and 
all  others  present. 

"I  took  it  from  the  Injun  feller/'  said  he,  with  great 
self-complacency,  "the  everlasting  big  rascal  that  was  a 
carrying  off  madam  on  my  own  boss,  and  madam  was  jist 
as  dead  as  a  piece  of  rock.  I  know'd  the  crittur,  and  sung 
out  to  the  feller  to  stop,  and  he  wouldn't;  and  so  I  jist 
blazed  away  at  him,  right  bang  at  his  back — knocked  him 


368  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

over  jist  like  a  streak  o'  lightning,  and  had  the  scalp  off 
his  'tarnal  ugly  head  afore  you  could  say  John  Eobinson ! 
— and  all  the  while,  madam  was  jist  as  dead  as  a  piece  of 
rock.  Here's  the  top-knot,  and  an  ugly  dirty  top-knot  it 
is !"  With  which  words  the  valiant  Dodge  displayed  his 
trophy,  a  scalp  of  black  hair,  yet  reeking  with  blood. 

A  shiver  passed  through  Edith's  frame,  she  grasped  her 
cousin's  arm  to  avoid  falling,  and  with  a  countenance  as 
white  and  ghastly  as  countenance  could  be,  exclaimed : — 

"It  was  Braxley — It  was  he  carried  me  off — but  I  knew 
nothing — it  was  he !  Yes,  it  was  lie !" 

"It  warn't  a  white  man?"  cried  Dodge,  dropping  his 
prize  in  dismay;  while  even  Eoland  staggered  with  horror 
at  the  thought  of  a  fate  so  sudden  and  dreadful  overtaking 
his  rival  and  enemy. 

"Ha,  ha !"  cried  the  renegade,  with  a  hideous  attempt  at 
laughter ;  "I  told  Dick  the  devil  would  have  us ;  but  I  had 
no  idea  Dick  would  be  the  first  afore  him !  Shot — scalped 
— sarved  like  a  mere  dog  of  an  Injun !  Well,  the  game's 
up  at  last,  and  we've  both  made  our  f ortun's !  Captain, 
I've  been  a  rascal  all  my  life,  and  I  die  no  better.  You 
wouldn't  take  my  offer,  captain — it's  no  matter."  He 
fumbled  in  his  breast,  and  presently  drew  to  light  the  will, 
with  which  he  so  vainly  strove  the  preceding  night  to  effect 
his  object  with  Roland;  it  was  stained  deeply  with  his 
blood.  "Take  it,  captain,"  he  cried,  "I  give  it  to  you 
without  axing  tarms;  I  leave  it  to  yourself,  captain.  But 
you'll  remember  her,  captain  ?  The  gal,  captain !  the  gal ! 
I  leave  it  to  yourself " 

"She  shall  never  want  friend  or  protector,"  said  Ro- 
land. 

"Captain,"  murmured  the  renegade  with  his  last  breath, 
and  grasping  the  soldier's  hand  with  his  last  convulsive 
effort,  "you're  an  honest  feller ;  I'll — yes,  captain,  I'll  trust 
you !" 

These  were  the  renegade's  last  words ;  and  before  Bruce, 
who  muttered,  half  in  reproach,  half  in  kindness,  "The 
gal  never  wanted  friend  or  protector  till  she  fled  from  me, 


NICK   OF    THE    WOODS.  3G9 

who  was  a  father  to  her,"  could  draw  the  sobbing  daughter 
away,  the  wretched  instrument  of  a  still  more  wretched 
principal  in  villainy  had  followed  his  employer  to  his  last 
account. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  struggle  was  over,  the  battle  was 
fought  and  won.  The  army — for  such  it  was,  being  com- 
manded in  person  by  the  hero  of  Kaskaskias,*  the  great 
protector,  and  almost  founder  of  the  West — summoned  in 
haste  to  avenge  the  slaughter  at  the  Blue  Licks — a  la- 
mentable disaster,  to  which  we  have  several  times  alluded, 
although  it  was  foreign  to  our  purpose  to  venture  more 
than  an  allusion — and  conducted  with  unexampled  speed 
against  the  Indian  towns  on  the  Miami,  had  struck  a  blow 
which  was  destined  long  to  be  remembered  by  the  Indians, 
thus  for  the  first  time  assailed  in  their  own  territory. 
Consisting  of  volunteers  well  acquainted  with  the  woods, 
all  well  mounted  and  otherwise  equipt,  all  familiar  with 
battle,  and  all  burning  for  revenge,  it  had  reached  within 
but  ten  or  twelve  miles  of  Wenonga's  town,  and  within  still 
fewer  of  a  smaller  village,  which  it  was  the  object  of  the 
troops  first  to  attack  at  sunset  of  the  previous  day,  and  en- 
camped in  the  woods  to  allow  man  and  horse,  both  well 
nigh  exhausted,  a  few  hours'  refreshment,  previous  to 
marching  upon  the  neighboring  village ;  when  Nathan,  fly- 
ing with  the  scalp  and  arms  of  Wenonga  in  his  hand,  and 
looking  more  like  an  infuriated  madman  than  the  inoffen- 
sive man  of  peace  he  had  been  so  long  esteemed,  suddenly 
appeared  amidst  the  vanguard,  commanded  by  the  gallant 
Bruce,  whom  he  instantly  apprised  of  the  condition  of  the 
captives  at  Wenonga's  town,  and  urged  to  attempt  their 
deliverance. 

This  was  done,  and  with  an  effect  which  has  been  already 
seen.  The  impetuosity  of  Bruce's  men,  doubly  inflamed 
by  the  example  of  the  father  and  his  eldest  son,  to  whom 
the  rescue  of  their  late  guests  was  an  object  of  scarce  in- 
ferior magnitude,  even  compared  with  the  veangeance  for 

*Gen.  George  Rogers  Clark. 


NICK   OF   THE    WOODS. 

which  they  burned  in  common  with  all  others,  had  in  some 
measure  defeated  the  hopes  of  the  general,  who  sought,  by 
a  proper  disposition  of  his  forces,  completely  to  invest  the 
Indian  village,  so  as  to  insure  the  destruction  or  capture 
of  every  inhabitant.  As  it  was,  however,  very  few  escaped ; 
many  were  killed,  and  more,  including  all  the  women  andt 
children  (who,  honest  Dodge's  misgivings  to  the  contrary* 
notwithstanding,  were  in  no  instance  designedly  injured) 
taken  prisoners.  And  this,  too,  at  an  expense  of  but  very 
few  lives  lost  on  the  part  of  the  victors;  the  Indians  at- 
tempting resistance  only  when  the  fall  of  more  than  half 
their  numbers,  and  the  presence  of  foes  on  every  side,  con- 
vinced them  that  flight  was  wholly  impracticable. 

The  victory  was,  indeed,  so  complete,  and — as  it  ap- 
peared that  several  bands  of  warriors  from  more  distant 
villages  were  in  the  town  at  the  time  of  attack — the  blow 
inflicted  upon  the  tribe  so  much  severer  than  was  antici- 
pated even  from  a  series  of  attacks  upon  several  different 
towns,  as  was  at  first  designed,  that  the  victors,  satisfied 
that  they  had  done  enough  to  convince  the  red-man  of  the 
irresistible  superiority  of  the  Long-knife,  satisfied,  too, 
perhaps,  that  the  cheapness  of  the  victory  rendered  it  more 
valuable  than  a  greater  triumph  achieved  at  a  greater  loss, 
gave  up  at  once  their  original  design  of  carrying  the  war 
into  other  villages,  and  resolved  to  retrace  their  march  to 
the  settlements. 

But  the  triumph  was  not  completed  until  the  village, 
with  its  fields  of  standing  corn,  had  been  entirely  destroyed, 
a  work  of  cruel  vengeance,  yet  not  so  much  of  vengeance  as 
of  policy;  since  the  destruction  of  their  fields,  by  driving 
the  savages  to  seek  a  winter's  subsistence  for  their  families 
in  the  forest,  necessarily  prevented  their  making  warlike 
inroads  upon  their  white  neighbors  during  that  season. 
The  maize-stalks,  accordingly,  soon  fell  before  the  knives 
and  hatchets  of  the  Kentuckians;  while  the  wigwams  were 
given  to  the  flames.  When  the  last  of  the  rude  habitations 
had  fallen,  crashing,  to  the  earth,  the  victors  began  their 
retreat  towards  the  frontier;  so  that  within  a  very  few 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  371 

hours  after  they  first  appeared,  as  if  bursting  from  the 
earth,  amid  the  amazed  barbarians,  nothing  remained 
upon  the  place  of  conflict  and  site  of  a  populous  village 
save  scattered  ruins  and  mangled  corses. 

Their  own  dead  the  invaders  bore  to  a  distance,  and  in- 
terred in  the  deepest  dens  of  the  forest;  and  then,  with 
their  prisoners,  carried  with  them  as  the  surest  means  of 
inducing  the  tribe  to  beg  for  peace,  in  order  to  effect  their' 
deliverance,  they  resumed  the  path,  which  in  good  time 
led  them  again  to  the  settlements. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

Now  our  sands  are  almost  run, 
More  a  little,  and  then  done. 

— Pericles. 

WITH  the  battle  at  the  Black  Vulture's  town  the  interest 
of  our  story  ceases;  and  there  it  may  be  said  to  have  its 
end.  The  deliverance  of  the  cousins,  the  one  from  cap- 
tivity and  death,  the  other  from  a  fate  to  them  more  dread- 
ful than  death;  the  restoration  of  the  will  of  their  uncle; 
and  the  fall  of  the  daring  and  unprincipled  villain,  to 
whose  machinations  they  owed  all  their  calamities,  had 
changed  the  current  of  their  fortunes,  which  was  now  to 
flow  in  a  channel  where  the  eye  could  no  longer  trace  ob- 
structions. The  last  peal  of  thunder  had  dissipated  the 
clouds  of  adversity,  and  the  star  of  their  destiny  shone  out 
with  all  its  original  lustre.  The  future  was  no  longer  one 
of  mere  hope,  it  presented  all  the  certainty  of  happiness  of 
which  human  existence  is  capable. 

Such  being  the  case,  and  our  story  having  actually  ar- 
rived at  its  end,  it  would  be  a  superfluous  and  unprofitable 
task  to  pursue  it  further,  were  it  not  that  other  individuals, 
whose  interests  were  so  long  intermingled  with  those  of  the 
cousins,  have  a  claim  upon  our  notice.  And  first,  before 
speaking  of  the  most  important  of  all,  the  warlike  man  of 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

peace,  the  man-slaying  hater  of  blood,  the  redoubtable  Na- 
than Slaughter — let  us  bestow  a  word  upon  honest  Pardon 
Dodge,  whose  sudden  reappearance  on  the  stage  of  life  so 
greatly  astonished  the  young  Virginian. 

This  resuscitation,  however,  as  explained  by  Dodge  him- 
self, was  after  all,  no  such  wonderful  matter.  Swept  from 
his  horse  by  the  violence  of  the  flood,  in  the  memorable 
flight  from  the  ruin,  a  happy  accident  had  flung  him  upon 
the  raft  of  timber,  that  bordered  the  fatal  chute;  where, 
not  doubting  that,  from  the  fury  of  the  current,  all  his 
companions  had  perished,  and  that  he  was  left  to  contend 
alone  against  the  savages,  he  immediately  sought  a  con- 
cealment among  the  logs,  in  which  he  remained  during  the 
remainder  of  the  night  and  the  greater  part  of  the  follow- 
ing day,  until  pretty  well  assured  the  Indians  were  no 
longer  in  his  vicinity.  Then,  scaling  the  cliffy  banks  of 
the  river,  and  creeping  through  the  woods,  it  was  his  good 
fortune  at  last  to  stumble  upon  the  clearings  around 
Bruce's  station,  at  which  he  arrived  soon  after  the  de- 
feated Regulators  had  effected  their  return. 

Here,  having  now  lost  his  horse,  arms,  every  thing  but 
life,  having  battled  away  also  in  the  midnight  siege  some 
of  those  terrors  that  made  Indians  and  border  life  so  hate- 
ful to  his  imagination,  and  being  perhaps  seduced  by  the 
hope  of  repairing  his  losses  and  revenging  the  injuries  he 
had  suffered,  he  was  easily  persuaded  to  follow  Colonel 
Bruce,  and  the  army  of  Kentuckians,  to  the  Indian  terri- 
tory, where  fate,  through  his  arm,  struck  a  blow  so  dread- 
fully, yet  retributively  just,  at  the  head  of  the  long-pros- 
pering villain,  the  unprincipled  and  unremorseful  Braxley. 

It  was  mentioned,  that  when  Nathan  first  burst  upon  the 
astonished  Bruce,  where  he  lay  with  his  vanguard,  en- 
camped in  the  woods,  his  appearance  and  demeanor  were 
rather  those  of  a  truculent  madman,  than  of  the  simple- 
minded,  inoffensive  creature  he  had  so  long  appeared  to 
the  eyes  of  all  who  knew  him.  His  Indian  garments  and 
decorations  contributed  somewhat  to  this  effect;  but  the 
man,  it  was  soon  seen,  was  more  changed  in  spirit  than  in 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

outward  attire.  The  bundle  of  scalps  in  his  hand,  the 
single  one,  yet  reeking  with  blood,  at  his  belt,  and  the  axe 
of  Wenonga,  gory  to  the  helve,  and  grasped  with  a  hand 
not  less  blood-stained,  were  not  more  remarkable  evidences 
of  transformation  than  were  manifested  in  his  countenance, 
deportment,  and  expressions.  His  eye  beamed  with  a  wild 
excitement,  with  exultation  mingled  with  fury;  his  step 
was  fierce,  active,  firm,  and  elastic,  like  that  of  a  warrior 
leaping  through  the  measures  of  the  war-dance;  and  when 
he  spoke,  his  words  were  of  battle  and  bloodshed.  He 
flourished  the  axe  of  Wenonga,  pointed  grimly  toward  the 
village,  and  while  recounting  the  number  of  warriors  who 
lay  therein  waiting  to  be  knocked  on  the  head,  he  seemed, 
judging  his  thoughts  from  his  gestures,  to  be  employed  in 
imagination  in  despatching  them  with  his  own  hands. 

When  the  march,  after  a  hasty  consultation,  was  agreed 
upon  and  resumed,  he,  although  on  foot,  maintained  a  posi- 
tion at  the  head  of  the  army,  guiding  it  along  with  a  readi- 
ness and  precision  which  argued  extraordinary  familiarity 
with  all  the  approaches  to  the  village;  and  when  the  as- 
sault was  actually  commenced,  he  was  still  among  the  fore- 
most, as  the  reader  has  seen,  to  enter  the  village  and  the 
square.  To  cut  the  bonds  of  the  Virginian,  and  utter  a 
fervent  expression  of  delight  at  his  rescue,  was  not  enough 
to  end  the  ferment  in  Nathan's  mind.  Leaving  the  Vir- 
ginian immediately  to  the  protection  of  the  younger  Bruce, 
he  rushed  after  the  flying  Indians,  among  whom  he  re- 
mained fighting  wherever  the  conflict  was  hottest,  until 
there  remained  no  more  enemies  to  encounter,  achieving 
such  exploits  as  filled  all  who  beheld  him  with  admiration 
and  amazement. 

Nor  did  the  fervor  of  his  fury  end  altogether  even  with 
the  battle.  He  was  among  the  most  zealous  in  destroying 
the  Indian  village,  applying  the  fire  with  his  own  hands  to 
at  least  a  dozen  different  wigwams,  shouting  with  the  most 
savage  exultation,  as  each  burst  into  flames. 

It  was  not  indeed  until  the  work  of  destruction  was  com- 
pleted, the  retreat  commenced,  and  the  army  once  more 


NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

buried  in  the  woods,  that  the  demon  which  had  thus  taken 
possession  of  his  spirit,  seemed  inclined  to  relax  its  hold, 
and  restore  him  once  more  to  his  wits.  It  was  then,  how- 
ever, that  the  remarks  which  all  had  now  leisure  to  make 
on  his  extraordinary  transformation,  the  mingled  jests  and 
commendations  of  which  he  found  himself  the  theme,  be- 
gan to  make  an  impression  on  his  mind,  and  gradually 
wake  him  as  from  a  dream  that  had  long  mastered  and  dis- 
tracted his  faculties.  The  fire  of  military  enthusiasm 
flashed  no  more  from  his  eyes,  his  step  lost  its  bold  spring 
and  confidence,  he  eyed  those  who  so  liberally  heaped  praise 
on  his  lately  acquired  courage  and  heroic  action,  with  un- 
easiness, embarrassment,  and  dismay ;  and  cast  his  troubled 
eyes  around,  as  if  in  search  of  some  friend  capable  of  giv- 
ing counsel  and  comfort  in  such  case  made  and  provided. 
His  looks  fell  upon  little  Peter,  who  had  kept  ever  at  his 
side  from  the  moment  of  his  escape  from  the  village,  and 
now  trotted  along  with  the  deferential  humility  which  be- 
came him,  while  surrounded  by  so  gallant  and  numerous  an 
assemblage;  but  even  little  Peter  could  not  relieve  him 
from  the  weight  of  eulogy  heaped  on  his  head,  nor  from 
the  prickings  of  the  conscience,  while  every  word  of  praise 
and  every  encomiastic  huzza  seemed  stirring  up  his  breast. 

In  this  exigency,  he  caught  sight  of  the  Virginian — 
mounted  once  more  upon  his  own  trusty  Briareus,  which 
the  younger  Bruce  had  brought  with  him  to  the  field  of 
battle, — and  remembered  on  the  sudden  that  he  had  not  yet 
made  him  acquainted  with  the  important  discovery  of  the 
will,  which  he  had  so  unexpectedly  made  in  the  village. 
The  younger  soldier  was  riding  side  by  side  with  his  cousin, 
for  whom  a  palfrey  had  been  easily  provided  from  the  In- 
dian pound,  and  indulging  with  her  many  a  joyous  feeling 
that  their  deliverance  was  so  well  suited  to  inspire ;  but  his 
eye  gleamed  with  double  satisfaction,  as  he  marked  the 
approach  of  his  trusty  associate  and  deliverer. 

"We  owe  you  life,  fortune,  every  thing,"  he  cried,  ex- 
tending his  hand ;  "and  be  assured,  neither  Edith  nor  my- 
self will  forget  it.  But  how  is  this,  Nathan?"  he  added, 


NICK   OF   THE    WOODS.  375 

with  a  smile,  as  he  perceived  the  bundle  of  scalps,  which 
Nathan,  in  the  confusion  or  absence  of  his  mind,  yet 
dangled  in  his  hands, — "you  were  not  used  so  freely  to 
display  the  proofs  of  your  prowess  I" 

"Friend,"  said  Nathan,  giving  one  look,  ghastly  with 
sorrow  and  perturbation,  to  the  shaking  ringlets,  another 
to  the  youth,  "thee  looks  upon  locks  that  was  once  on  the 
heads  of  my  children !"  He  thrust  the  bundle  into  his 
bosom,  and  pointed  with  a  look  of  inexpressible  triumph  to 
that  of  Wenonga,  hanging  to  his  belt.  "And  here,"  he 
muttered,  "is  the  scalp  of  him  that  slew  them!  It  is 
enough,  friend;  thee  has  had  my  story — thee  will  not  cen- 
sure me.  But,  friend,"  he  added,  hastily,  as  if  anxious  to 
revert  to  another  subject;  "I  have  a  thing  to  say  to  thee, 
which  it  concerns  thee,  and  thee  fair  maid,  thee  cousin,  to 
know.  There  was  a  will,  friend, — a  true  and  lawful  last 
will  and  testament  of  thee  deceased  uncle,  in  which  thee- 
self  and  thee  cousin  was  made  the  sole  heirs  of  the  same. 
Truly,  friend,  I  did  take  it  from  the  breast  of  the  villain 
that  plotted  thee  ruin;  but,  truly,  it  was  taken  from  me 
again,  I  know  not  how." 

"I  have  it  safe,"  said  Eoland,  displaying  it  for  a  mo- 
ment, with  great  satisfaction,  to  Nathan's  eyes.  "It  makes 
me  master  of  wealth,  which  you,  Nathan,  shall  be  the  first 
to  share.  You  must  leave  this  wild  life  of  the  border,  and 
go  with  me  to  Virginia." 

"I,  friend !"  exclaimed  Nathan,  with  a  melancholy  shake 
of  the  head;  "thee  would  not  have  me  back  in  the  settle- 
ments, to  scandalize  them  that  is  of  my  faith?  No,  friend; 
my  lot  is  cast  in  the  woods,  and  thee  must  not  ask  me 
again  to  leave  them.  And,  friend,  thee  must  not  think  I 
have  served  thee  for  the  lucre  of  money  or  gain ;  for,  truly, 
these  things  is  now  to  me  as  nothing.  The  meat  that  feeds 
me,  the  skins  that  cover,  the  leaves  that  make  my  bed,  are 
all  in  the  forest  around  me,  to  be  mine  when  I  want  them ; 
and  what  more  can  I  desire?  Yet,  friend,  if  thee  thinks 
theeself  obliged  by  whatever  I  have  done  for  thee,  I  would 
ask  of  thee  one  favor  that  thee  can  grant." 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

"An  hundred!"  said  the  Virginian,  warmly. 

"Nay,  friend,"  muttered  Nathan,  with  both  a  warning 
and  beseeching  look,  "all  that  I  ask  is,  that  thee  shall  say 
nothing  of  me  that  should  scandalize  and  disparage  the 
faith  to  which  I  was  born." 

"I  understand  you,"  said  Roland,  "and  will  remember 
your  wish." 

"And  now,  friend,"  continued  Nathan,  "do  thee  take! 
theeself  to  the  haunts  of  thee  fellows,  the  habitations  of 
them  that  is  honest  and  peaceful, — thee,  and  the  good 
maiden,  thee  cousin;  for,  truly,  it  is  not  well,  neither  for 
thee  nor  for  her — and  especially  for  her,  that  is  feeble  and 
fearful — to  dwell  nigh  to  where  murdering  Injuns 
abound." 

"Yet,  go  with  us,  good  Nathan,"  said  Edith,  adding  her 
voice  to  the  entreaties  of  her  kinsman;  "there  shall  be 
none  to  abuse  or  find  fault  with  you." 

"Thee  is  a  good  maid,"  said  Nathan,  surveying  her  with 
an  interest  that  became  mournful  as  he  spoke.  "When 
thee  goes  back  to  thee  father's  house,  thee  will  find  them 
that  will  gladden  at  thee  coming, — and  hearts  will  yearn 
with  joy  over  thee  young  and  lovely  looks.  Thee  will 
smile  upon  them,  and  they  will  be  happy.  Such,"  he 
added,  with  deep  emotion,  "such  might  have  been  my  fate, 
had  the  Injun  axe  spared  me  but  a  single  child.  But  it 
is  not  so;  there  is  none  left  to  look  upon  me  with  smiles 
and  rejoicing, — none  to  welcome  me  from  the  field  and 
the  forest  with  the  voice  of  love — no,  truly,  truly,  there  is 
not  one, — not  one." 

And  as  he  spoke  his  voice  faltered,  his  lip  quivered,  and 
his  whole  countenance  betrayed  the  workings  of  a  be- 
reaved and  mourning  spirit. 

"Think  not  of  this,"  said  Roland,  deeply  affected,  as  well 
as  his  cousin,  by  this  unexpected  display  of  feeling  in  the 
rude  wanderer;  "the  gratitude  of  those  you  have  so  well 
served  shall  be  to  you  in  place  of  a  child's  affection.  We 
will  never  forget  our  obligations.  Come  with  us,  Nathan, 
— come  with  us," 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS. 

But  Nathan,  ashamed  of  the  weakness  which  he  could 
not  resist,  had  turned  away  to  conceal  his  emotion;  and, 
stalking  silently  off,  with  the  ever-faithful  Peter  at  his 
heels,  was  soon  hidden  from  their  eyes. 

"I  will  find  some  way  to  bring  him  round,"  said  Ro- 
land. "A  braver  heart,  a  truer  friend,  never  served  man 
in  time  of  need.  I  shall  never  enjoy  ease  of  mind  if  I 
find  not  some  way  to  reward  him,  and  some  way  I  will."  i 

But  the  Virginian  never  saw  his  wild  comrade  again. 
Neither  Nathan's  habits  nor  inclinations  carried  him  often 
into  the  society  of  his  fellow-men,  where  reproaches  and 
abuse  were  sure  to  meet  him.  Insult  and  contumely  were, 
indeed,  no  longer  to  be  dreaded  by  the  unresisting  wan- 
derer, after  the  extraordinary  proofs  of  courage  which  he 
had  that  day  given.  But,  apparently,  he  now  found  as 
little  to  relish  in  encomiums  passed  on  his  valor,  as  in  the 
invectives  to  which  he  had  been  formerly  exposed.  He 
stole  away,  therefore,  into  the  woods,  abandoning  the  army 
altogether,  and  was  no  more  seen  during  the  march. 

But  Roland  did  not  doubt  he  should  behold  him  again 
at  Bruce's  station,  where  he  soon  found  himself,  with  his 
kinswoman,  in  safety;  and  where — now  happily  able  to 
return  to  the  land  of  his  birth  and  the  home  of  his  an- 
cestors— he  remained  during  a  space  of  two  or  three  weeks, 
waiting  the  arrival  of  a  strong  band  of  Virginian  rangers, 
who  (their  term  of  military  service  on  the  frontier  having 
expired)  were  on  the  eve  of  returning  to  Virginia,  and 
with  whom  he  designed  seeking  protection  for  his  own  little 
party. 

During  all  this  period  he  impatiently  awaited  the  re- 
appearance of  Nathan,  but  in  vain;  and  as  he  was  in- 
formed, and,  indeed,  from  Nathan's  own  admissions,  knew 
that  the  latter  had  no  fixed  place  of  abode,  he  saw  that  it 
was  equally  vain  to  attempt  hunting  him  up  in  the  forest. 
In  short,  he  was  compelled  to  depart  on  his  homeward 
journey, — a  journey  happily  accomplished  in  safety, — 
without  again  seeing  him;  but  not  until  he  had  left  with 
the  commander  of  the  station  a  goodly  store  of  such  articles 


3V8  NICK   OF   THE   WOODS. 

of  comfort  and  necessity  as  he  thought  would  prove  ac- 
ceptable to  his  solitary  friend. 

Nor  did  he  depart  without  making  others  of  his  late 
associates  acquainted  with  his  bounty.  The  pledge  he  had 
given  the  dying  renegade,  he  offered  to  redeem  to  the  daugh- 
ter, by  bearing  her  with  him  to  Virginia,  and  providing 
her  a  secure  home,  under  the  protection  of  his  cousin ;  but 
Telie  preferring  rather  to  remain  in  the  family  of  Colonel 
Bruce,  who  seemed  to  entertain  for  her  a  truly  parental 
affection,  he  took  such  steps  as  speedily  converted  the  poor 
dependent  orphan  into  a  person  of  almost  wealth  and  con- 
sequence. His  bounty-grants  and  land-warrants  he  left 
in  the  hands  of  Bruce,  with  instruments  to  locate  them  to 
the  best  advantage  in  favor  of  the  girl,  to  whom  he  as- 
signed them  with  the  proper  legal  formalities ;  a  few  hun- 
dred acres,  however,  being  conveyed  to  Captain  Ealph,  and 
the  worthy  Dodge, — of  whom  the  latter  had  given  over 
all  thought  of  returning  to  the  Bay  State,  having,  as  he 
said,  "got  his  hand  in  to  killing  Injuns,  and  not  caring  a 
fourpence  ha'penny  for  the  whole  everlasting  set  of 
them." 

Thus  settling  up  his  accounts  of  gratitude,  he  joyously, 
and  with  Edith  still  more  joyous  at  his  side,  turned  his 
face  towards  the  East  and  Virginia — towards  Fellhallow 
and  home — to  enjoy  a  fortune  of  happiness,  to  which  the 
memory  of  the  few  weeks  of  anguish  and  gloom  passed  in 
the  desert,  only  served  to  impart  additional  zest. 

Nor  did  he,  even  in  the  tranquil  life  of  enjo}rment  which 
he  was  now  enabled  to  lead,  lose  his  interest  in  the  in- 
dividuals who  had  shared  his  perils  and  sufferings.  His 
inquiries,  made  wherever  and  whenever  intelligence  could 
be  obtained,  were  continued  for  many  years,  until,  in  fact, 
the  district  and  wilderness  of  Kentucky  existed  no  more, 
but  were  both  merged  in  a  State,  too  great  and  powerful 
to  be  longer  exposed  to  the  inroads  of  savages.  The  in- 
formation which  he  was  able  to  glean  in  relation  to  the 
several  parties,  was,  however,  uncertain  and  defective,  the 
means  of  intelligence  being,  at  that  early  period,  far  from 


KICK   OF    THE    WOODS.  379 

satisfactory;  but  such  as  it  was,  we  hasten  to  lay  it  before 
the  reader. 

The  worthy  Colonel  Bruce  continued  to  live  and  flourish 
with  his  station,  which  soon  grew  into  a  town  of  consider- 
able note.  The  colonel  himself,  when  last  heard  from, 
was  no  longer  a  colonel,  his  good  stars,  his  military  services, 
and,  perhaps,  the  fervent  prayers  of  his  wife,  having 
transformed  him,  one  happy  day,  into  a  gallant  brigadier. 
His  son  Dick  trode  in  the  footsteps,  and  grew  into  the 
likeness  of  his  brother  Tom,  being  as  brave  and  good- 
humored,  and  far  more  fortunate;  and  Eoland  heard,  a 
few  years  after  his  own  departure  from  Kentucky,  with 
much  satisfaction,  that  the  youth  was  busily  occupied,  dur- 
ing such  intervals  of  peace  as  the  Indians  allowed,  in  clear- 
ing and  cultivating  the  lands  bestowed  on  Telie  Doe,  whom 
he  had,  though  scarce  yet  out  of  his  teens,  taken  to  wife. 

No  very  certain  information  was  ever  obtained  in  regard 
to  the  fate  of  Pardon  Dodge ;  but  there  was  every  reason  to 
suppose  he  remained  in  Kentucky,  fighting  Indians  to  the 
last,  having  got  so  accustomed  to  that  species  of  pastime, 
as  to  feel  easy  while  practising  it.  We  are  the  more  in- 
clined to  think  that  such  was  the  case,  as  the  name  is  not 
yet  extinct  on  the  frontier,  and  one  individual  bearing  it, 
has,  very  recently,  in  one  of  the  fiercest,  though  briefest  of 
Indian  wars,  covered  it  with  immortal  lustre. 

Of  Ealph  Stackpole,  the  invader  of  Indian  horse-pounds, 
it  was  Captain  Forrester's  fortune  to  obtain  more  minute, 
though,  we  are  sorry  to  say,  scarce  more  satisfactory  intel- 
ligence. The  luck,  good  and  bad  together,  which  had  dis- 
tinguished Eoaring  Ralph  in  all  his  relations  with  Roland, 
never,  it  seems,  entirely  deserted  him.  His  improvident, 
harum-scarum  habits,  had  very  soon  deprived  him  of  all 
the  advantages  that  might  have  resulted  from  the  soldier's 
munificent  gift,  and  left  him  a  landless,  good-for-nothing, 
yet  contented  vagabond  as  before. 

With  poverty  returned  sundry  peculiar  propensities, 
which  he  had  manifested  in  former  days;  so  that  Ralph 
again  lost  savor  in  the  nostrils  of  his  acquaintance;  and 


380  NICK   OF   THE    WOODS. 

the  last  time  that  Forrester  heard  of  him  he  had  got  into 
a  difficulty,  in  some  respects  similar  to  that  in  the  woods  at 
Salt  River,  from  which  Roland,  at  Edith's  intercession, 
had  saved  him.  In  a  word,  he  was  one  day  arraigned,  be- 
fore a  county  court  in  Kentucky,  on  a  charge  of  horse-steal- 
ing, and  matters  went  hard  against  him,  his  many  offences 
in  that  line  having  steeled  the  hearts  of  all  against  him, 
and  the  proofs  of  guilt,  in  this  particular  instance,  being 
both  strong  and  manifold. 

Many  an  angry  and  unpitying  eye  was  bent  upon  the 
unfortunate  fellow,  when  his  counsel  rose  to  attempt  a 
defence,  which  he  did  in  the  following  terms;  "Gentle- 
men of  the  jury,"  said  the  man  of  law, — "here  is  a  man, 
Captain  Ralph  Stackpole,  indicted  before  you  on  the  charge 
of  stealing  a  horse;  and  the  affa'r  is  pretty  considerably 
proved  on  him."  Here  there  was  a  murmur  heard  through- 
out the  court,  evincing  much  approbation  at  the  counsel's 
frankness.  "Gentlemen  of  the  jury,"  continued  the  orator, 
elevating  his  voice,  "what  I  have  to  say  in  reply  is,  first, 
that  that  man  thar',  Captain  Ralph  Stackpole,  did,  in  the 
year  seventeen  seventy-nine,  when  this  good  state  of  Ken- 
tucky, and  particularly  those  parts  adjacent  to  Bear's  Grass 
and  the  mouth  thereof,  where  now  stands  the  town  of 
Louisville,  were  overrun  with  yelping  Injun-savages, — did, 
I  say,  gentlemen,  meet  two  Injun-savages  in  the  woods  on 
Bear's  Grass,  and  take  their  scalps,  single-handed — a  feat, 
gentlemen  of  the  jury,  that  an't  to  be  performed  every  day 
even  in  Kentucky !" — Here  there  was  considerable  tumult 
in  the  court,  and  several  persons  began  to  swear. — "Sec- 
ondly, gentlemen  of  the  jury,"  exclaimed  the  attorney-at- 
law,  with  a  still  louder  voice,  "what  I  have  to  say  secondly, 
gentlemen  of  the  jury,  is,  that  this  same  identical  prisoner 
at  the  bar,  Captain  Ralph  Stackpole,  did,  on  another  occa- 
sion, in  the  year  seventeen  eighty-two,  meet  another  Injun- 
savage  in  the  woods, — a  savage  armed  with  rifle,  knife, 
and  tomahawk, — and  met  him  with — you  suppose,  gentle- 
men, with  gun,  axe,  and  scalper,  in  like  manner? — No, 
gentlemen  of  the  jury ! — with  his  fists,  and"  (with  a  voice 


NICK    OF    THE    WOODS.  381 

of  thunder)  "licked  him  to  death  in  the  natural  way ! 
Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  pass  upon  the  prisoner, — guilty,  or 
not  guilty  ?" 

The  attorney  resumed  his  seat ;  his  arguments  were  irre- 
sistible. The  jurors  started  up  in  their  box,  and  roared  out 
to  a  man,  "Not  guilty!" 

From  that  moment,  it  may  be  supposed,  Eoaring  Ealph 
could  steal  horses  at  his  pleasure.  Nevertheless,  it  seems, 
he  immediately  lost  his  appetite  for  horseflesh ;  and,  leav- 
ing the  land  altogether,  he  betook  himself  to  a  more  con- 
genial element,  launched  his  broad-horn  on  the  narrow 
bosom  of  the  Salt,  and  was  soon  afterwards  transformed 
into  a  Mississippi  alligator;  in  which  amphibious  condi- 
tion, we  presume  he  roared  on  till  the  day  of  his  death. 

As  for  the  valiant  Nathan  Slaughter — the  last  of  the 
list  of  worthies  after  whom  the  young  Virginian  so  often 
inquired — less  was  discovered  in  relation  to  his  fate  than 
that  of  the  others.  A  month,  or  more,  perhaps,  after  Eo- 
land's  departure,  he  re-appeared  at  Bruce's  station,  where 
he  was  twice  or  thrice  again  seen.  But,  whether  it  was 
that,  as  we  have  once  before  hinted,  he  found  the  cheers 
and  hearty  hurrahs  in  token  of  respect  for  his  valiant  deeds 
at  Wenonga's  town,  with  which  Bruce's  people  received 
him,  more  embarrassing  and  offensive  than  the  flings  and 
sarcasms  with  which  they  used  in  former  days  to  greet  his 
appearance,  or  whether  he  had  some  still  more  stirring 
reason  for  deserting  the  neighborhood,  it  is  certain  that 
he,  in  a  short  time,  left  the  vicinity  of  Salt  Eiver  alto- 
gether, going  no  man  knew  whither.  He  went,  and  with 
him  his  still  inseparable  friend,  little  dog  Peter. 

From  that  moment,  the  Jibbenainosay  ceased  to  frequent 
his  accustomed  haunts  in  the  forest;  the  phantom  Nick 
of  the  Woods  was  never  more  beheld  stalking  through  the 
gloom,  nor  was  his  fearful  cross  ever  again  seen  traced  on 
the  breast  of  a  slaughtered  Indian. 


THE  END, 


Good  Fiction  Worth  Reading. 

A  series  of  romances  containing  several  of  the  old  favorile*  in  the  field 
of  historical  fiction,  replete  with  powerful  romances  of  love  tnd  diplomacy 
that  excel  in  thrilling  and  absorbing  interest. 


A  COLONIAL  FREE-LANCE.  A  story  of  American  Colonial  Times.  By 
Chauncey  C.  Hotchkiss.  Cloth,  izmo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  WaUon 
Davis.  Price,  $1.00. 

t  A  book  that  appeals  to  Americans  as  a  vivid  picture  of  Revolutionary 
f  scenes.  The  story  is  a  strong  one,  a  thrilling  one.  It  causes  the  tru* 
/American  to  flush  with  excitement,  to  devour  chapter  after  chapter,  until 

the  eyes  smart,  and  it  fairly  smoke*  with  patriotism.    The  love  story  is  a 

singularly  charming  idyl. 

THE  TOWER  OF  LONDON.  A  Historical  Romance  of  the  Times  of  Lady 
Jane  Grey  and  Mary  Tudor.  By  Wm.  Harrison  Ainsworth.  Cloth,  jamo.  with 
four  illustrations  by  George  Cruikshank.  Price,  $1.00. 

This  romance  of  the  "Tower  of  London"  depicts  the  Tower  as  palace, 
prison  and  fortress,  with  many  historical  associations.  The  era  is  the 
middle  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

The  story  is  divided  into  two  parts,  one  dealing  with  Lady  Jane  Grey. 
and  the  other  with  Mary  Tudor  as  Queen,  introducing  other  notable  char- 
acters of  the  era.  Throughout  the  story  holds  the  interest  of  the  reader 
in  the  midst  of  intrigue  and  conspiracy,  extending  considerably  over  a 
half  a  century. 

IN  DEFIANCE  OF  THE  KING.  A  Romance  of  the  American  Revolution. 
By  Chauncey  C.  Hotchkiss.  Cloth,  I2mo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watson 
Davis.  Price,  $1.00. 

Mr.  Hotchkiss  has  etched  in  burning  words  a  story  of  Yankee  bravery, 
and  true  love  that  thrills  from  beginning  to  end,  with  the  spirit  of  the 
Revolution.  The  heart  beats  quickly,  and  we  feel  ourselves  taking  a 
part  in  the  exciting  scenes  described.  His  whole  story  is  so  absorbing 
that  you  will  sit  up  far  into  the  night  to  finish  it.  As  a  love  romance 
It  is  charming. 

GARTHOWEN.  A  story  of  a  Welsh  Homestead.  By  Allen  Raine.  Cloth, 
izmo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watson  Davis.  Price,  $1.00. 

"This  is  a  little  idyl  of  hufoble  life  and  enduring  love,  laid  bare  before 
us,  very  real  and  pure,  which  in  its  telling  shows  us  some  strong  point*  of 
Welsh  character— the  pride,  the  hasty  temper,  the  quick  dying  out  of  wrath. 
.  .  .  We  call  this  a  well-written  story,  interesting  alike  through  lt» 
romance  and  its  glimpses  into  another  life  than  ours.  A  delightful  and 
clever  picture  of  Welsh  village  life.  The  result  is  excellent."— Detroit  Free 
Press. 

MIFANWY.  The  story  of  a  Welsh  Singer.  By  Allan  Raine.  Cloth, 
i2mo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watson  Davis.  Price,  $1.00. 

"This  is  a  love  story,  simple,  tender  and  pretty  as  one  would  care  te 
read.  The  action  throughout  is  brisk  and  pleasing;  the  characters,  it  is  ap- 
parent at  once,  are  as  true  to  life  as  though  the  author  had  known  them 
all  personally.  Simple  in  all  its  situations,  the  story  is  worked  up  in  that 
touching  and  quaint  strain  which  never  grows  wearisome,  no  matter  how 
often  the  lights  and  shadows  of  love  are  introduced.  It  rings  true,  and 
does  not  tax  the  Imagination." — Boston  Herald. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  cm  receipt  of  price  by  the  pub- 
lishers, A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY,  New  York. 


Good  Fiction  Worth  Reading. 

A  series  of  romances  containing  several  of  the  old  favorites  in  the  field 
of  historical  fiction,  replete  with  powerful  romances  of  love  and  diplomacy 
that  excel  in  thrilling  and  absorbing  interest. 


DARNLEY.  A  Romance  of  the  times  of  Henry  VIII.  and  Cardinal  Wolsey. 
By  G.  P.  R.  James.  Cloth,  izmo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watson  Davis. 
Price,  $1.00. 

In  point  of  publication,  "Darnley"  is  that  work  by  Mr.  James  which 
follows  "Richelieu,"  and,  if  rumor  can  be  credited,  it  was  owing  to  the  ad- 
vice and  insistence  of  our  own  Washington  Irving  that  we  are  indebted 
primarily  for  the  story,  the  young  author  questioning  whether  he  could 
properly  paint  the  difference  in  the  characters  of  the  two  great  cardinals. 
And  it  is  not  surprising  that  James  should  have  hesitated;  he  had  been 
eminently  successful  in  giving  to  the  world  the  portrait  of  Richelieu  as  a 
man,  and  by  attempting  a  similar  task  with  Wolsey  as  the  theme,  was 
much  like  tempting  fortune.  Irving  insisted  that  "Darnley"  came  natur- 
ally in  sequence,  and  this  opinion  being  supported  by  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
the  author  set  about  the  work. 

As  a  historical  romance  "Darnley"  is  a  book  that  can  be  taken  up 
pleasurably  again  and  again,  for  there  is  about  it  that  subtle  charm  which 
those  who  are  strangers  to  the  works  of  G.  P.  R.  James  have  claimed  was 
only  to  be  imparted  by  Dumas. 

If  there  was  nothing  more  about  the  work  to  attract  espesial  attention, 
the  account  of  the  meeting  of  the  kings  on  the  historic  "field  of  the  cloth  of 
sold"  would  entitle  the  story  to  the  most  favorable  consideration  of  every 
reader. 

There  is  really  but  little  pure  romance  in  this  story,  for  the  author  ha« 
taken  care  to  imagine  love  passages  only  between  those  whom  history  ha« 
credited  with  having  entertained  the  tender  passion  one  for  another,  and 
he  succeeds  in  making  such  lovers  as  all  the  world  must  love. 

CAPTAIN  BRAND,  OP  THE  SCHOONER  CENTIPEDE.  By  I<ieut. 
Henry  A.  Wise,  U.  S.  N.  (Harry  Gringo).  Cloth,  i2mo.  with  four  illustra- 
tions by  J.  Watson  Davis.  Price,  $1.00. 

The  re-publication  of  this  story  will  please  those  lovers  of  sea  yarn* 
who  delight  in  so  much  of  the  salty  flavor  of  the  ocean  as  can  come  through 
the  medium  of  a  printed  page,  for  never  has  a  story  of  the  sea  and  those 
"who  go  down  in  ships"  been  written  by  one  more  familiar  with  the  scenes 
depicted. 

The  one  book  of  this  gifted  author  which  is  best  remembered,  and  which 
will  be  read  with  pleasure  for  many  years  to  come,  is  "Captain  Brand," 
who,  as  the  author  states  on  his  title  page,  was  a  "pirate  of  eminence  in 
the  West  Indie*."  As  a  sea  story  pure  and  simple,  "Captain  Brand"  has 
never  been  excelled,,  and  as  a  story  of  piratical  life,  told  without  the  usual 
ambellishments  of  blood  and  thunder,  it  has  no  equal. 

NICK  OF  THE  WOODS.  A  story  of  the  Early  Settlers  of  Kentucky.  By 
Robert  Montgomery  Bird.  Cloth,  izmo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watson 
Davis.  Price,  $1.00. 

This  most  popular  novel  and  thrilling  story  of  early  frontier  life  in 
Kentucky  was  originally  published  in  the  year  1837.  The  novel,  long  out  of 
print,  had  in  its  day  a  phenomenal  sale,  for  its  realistic  presentation  of 
Indian  and  frontier  life  in  the  early  days  of  settlement  in  the  South,  nar- 
rated in  the  tale  with  all  the  art  of  a  practiced  writer.  A  very  charming 
love  romance  runs  through  the  story.  This  new  and  tasteful  edition  of 
"Nick  of  the  Woods"  will  be  certain  to  make  many  new  admirer*  for 
this  enchanting  story  from  Dr.  Bird's  cUver  and  versatile  pen. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the  pub- 
lishers, A.  L,  HURT  COMPANY,  T*ew  York. 


Good  Fiction  Worth  Reading. 

A  series  of  romances  containing  several  of  the  old  favorites  in  the  field 
of  historical  fiction,  replete  with  powerful  romances  of  love  and  diplomacy 
that  excel  in  thrilling  and  absorbing  interest. 


GUY  PAWKES.  A  Romance  of  the  Gunpowder  Treason.  By  Wm.  Harri- 
son Ainsworth.  Cloth,  i2tno.  with  four  illustrations  by  George  Cruikshanlc. 
Price,  $1.00. 

The  "Gunpowder  Plot"  was  a  modest  attempt  to  blow  up  Parliament, 
the  King  and  his  Counsellors.  James  of  Scotland,  then  King  of  England, 
was  weak-minded  and  extravagant.  He  hit  upon  the  efficient  scheme  of 
extorting  money  from  the  people  by  imposing  taxes  on  the  Catholics.  In 
their  natural  resentment  to  this  extortion,  a  handful  of  bold  spirits  con- 
cluded to  overthrow  the  government.  Finally  the  plotters  were  arrested, 
and  the  King  put  to  torture  Guy  Fawkes  and  the  other  prisoners  witft 
royal  vigor.  A  very  intense  love  story  runs  through  the  entire  romance. 

THE  SPIRIT  OP  THE  BORDER.  A  Romance  of  the  Early  Settlers  in  the 
Ohio  Valley.  By  Zane  Grey.  Cloth.  lamo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watson 
Davis.  Price,  $1.00. 

A  book  rather  out  of  the  ordinary  is  this  "Spirit  of  the  Border."  Th« 
main  thread  of  the  story  has  to  do  with  the  work  of  the  Moravian  mis- 
sionaries in  the  Ohio  Valley.  Incidentally  the  reader  is  given  details  of  th« 
frontier  life  of  those  hardy  pioneers  who  broke  the  wilderness  for  the  plant- 
Ing  of  this  great  nation.  Chief  among  these,  as  a  matter  of  course,  is 
Lewis  Wetzel,  one  of  the  most  peculiar,  and  at  the  same  time  the  most 
admirable  of  all  the  brave  men  who  spent  their  lives  battling  with  the 
savage  foe,  that  others  might  dwell  in  comparative  security. 

Details  of  the  establishment  and  destruction  of  the  Moravian  "Village 
of  Peace"  are  given  at  some  length,  and  with  minute  description.  The 
efforts  to  Christianize  the  Indians  are  described  as  they  never  have  been 
before,  and  the  author  has  depicted  the  characters  of  the  leaders  of  the 
several  Indian  tribes  with  great  care,  which  of  itself  will  be  of  interest  to 
the  student. 

By  no  means  least  among  the  charms  of  the  story  are  the  vivfd  word- 
pictures  of  the  thrilling  adventures,  and  the  intense  paintings  of  the  beau- 
ties of  nature,  as  seen  in  the  almost  unbroken  forests. 

It  is  the  spirit  of  the  frontier  which  is  described,  and  one  can  by  it, 
perhaps,  the  better  understand  why  men,  and  women,  too,  willingly  braved 
every  privation  and  danger  that  the  westward  progress  of  the  star  of  em- 
pire might  be  the  more  certain  and  rapid.  A  love  story,  simple  and  tender* 
runs  through  the  book. 

RICHELIEU.  A  tale  of  Prance  in  the  reign  of  King  I/mis  XITL  By  G.  P. 
R.  James.  Cloth,  izrao.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watson  Davis.  Price, $1.00. 

In  1829  Mr.  James  published  his  first  romance,  "Richelieu."  and  w»« 
recognized  at  once  as  one  of  the  masters  of  the  craft. 

In  this  book  he  laid  the  story  during  those  later  days  of  the  great  car* 
dinal's  life,  when  his  power  was  beginning  to  wane,  but  while  it  wa« 
yet  sufficiently  strong  to  permit  now  and  then  of  volcanic  outbursts  which 
overwhelmed  foes  and  carried  friends  to  the  topmost  wave  of  prosperity. 
One  of  the  most  striking  portions  of  the  story  is  that  of  Cinq  Mar's  conspir- 
acy; the  method  of  conducting  criminal  cases,  and  the  political  trickery 
resorted  to  by  royal  favorites,  affording  a  better  insight  i»to  the  state- 
craft of  that  day  than  can  be  had  even  by  an  exhaustive  study  of  history. 
It  is  a  powerful  romance  of  love  and  diplomacy,  and  in  point  of  thrilling 
amd  absorbing  Interest  has  never  been  excelled. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  seat  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the  pub- 
Ushers.  A.  L,  BURT  COWWWJ      ^  New  Torts. 


Good  Fiction  Worth  Reading. 

A  series  of  romances  containing  several  of  the  old  favorites  in  the  field 
of  historical  fiction,  replete  with  powerful  romances  of  love  and  diplomacy 
that  excel  in  thrilling  and  absorbing  interest. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  A  Historical  Romance  of  the  Reign  of  Henry  VIII., 
Catharine  of  Aragon  and  Anne  Boleyn.  By  Win.  Harrison  Ainsworth.  Cloth, 
xamo.  with  four  illustrations  by  George  Cruikshank.  Price,  $1.00. 

"Windsor  Castle"  is  the  story  of  Henry  VIII.,  Catharine,  and  Anne 
Boleyn.  "Bluff  Kin?  Hal,"  although  a  well-loved  monarch,  was  none  too 
good  a  one  in  many  ways.  Of  all  his  selfishness  and  unwarrantable  acts, 
none  was  more  discreditable  than  his  divorce  from  Catharine,  and  his  mar- 
riage to  the  beautiful  Anne  Boleyn.  The  King's  love  was  as  brief  as  it 
was  vehement.  Jane  Seymour,  waiting  maid  on  the  Queen,  attracted  him, 
and  Anne  Boleyn  was  forced  to  the  block  to  make  room  for  her  successor. 
This  romance  is  one  of  extreme  interest  to  all  readers. 

HORSESHOE  ROBINSON.  A  tale  of  the  Tory  Ascendency  in  South  Caro- 
lina in  1780.  By  John  P.  Kennedy.  Cloth,  lamo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J. 
Watson  Davis.  Price,  $1.00. 

Among  the  old  favorites  in  the  field  of  what  is  known  as  historical  fic- 
tion, there  are  none  which  appeal  to  a  larger  number  of  Americans  than 
Horseshoe  Robinson,  and  this  because  it  is  the  only  story  which  depicts 
with  fidelity  to  the  facts  the  heroic  efforts  of  the  colonists  in  South  Caro- 
lina to  defend  their  homes  against  the  brutal  oppression  of  the  British 
under  such  leaders  as  Cornwallis  and  Tarleton. 

The  reader  is  charmed  with  the  story  of  love  which  forms  the  thread 
of  the  tale,  and  then  impressed  with  the  wealth  of  detail  concerning  those 
times.  The  picture  of  the  manifold  sufferings  of  the  people,  is  never  over- 
drawn, but  painted  faithfully  and  honestly  by  one  who  spared  neither 
time  nor  labor  in  his  efforts  to  present  in  this  charming  love  story  all  that 
price  in  blood  and  tears  which  the  Carolinians  paid  as  their  share  in  the 
winning  of  the  republic. 

Take  it  all  in  all,  "Horseshoe  Robinson"  is  a  work  which  should  be 
found  on  every  book-shelf,  not  only  because  it  is  a  most  entertaining 
story,  but  because  of  the  wealth  of  valuable  information  concerning  the 
colonists  which  it  contains.  That  it  has  been  brought  out  once  more,  well 
Illustrated,  is  something  which  will  give  pleasure  to  thousands  who  have 
long  desired  an  opportunity  to  read  the  story  again,  and  to  the  many  who 
have  tried  vainly  in  these  latter  days  to  procure  a  copy  that  they  might 
read  it  for  the  first  time. 

THE  PEARL  OP  ORR'S  ISLAND.  A  story  of  the  Coast  of  Maine.  By 
Harriet  Beecher  Stowe.  Cloth,  i2mo.  Illustrated.  Price,  $1.00. 

Written  prior  to  1862,  the  "Pearl  of  Orr's  Island"  is  ever  new;  a  book 
filled  with  delicate  fancies,  such  as  seemingly  array  themselves  anew  each 
time  one  reads  them.  One  sees  the  "sea  like  an  unbroken  mirror  all 
around  the  pine-girt,  lonely  shores  of  Orr's  Island,"  and  straightway  ( 
comes  "the  heavy,  hollow  moan  of  the  surf  on  the  beach,  like  the  wild 
angry  howl  of  some  savage  animal." 

Who  can  read  of  the  beginning  of  that  sweet  life,  named  Mara,  which 
came  into  this  world  under  the  very  shadow  of  the  Death  angel's  wings, 
without  having  an  intense  desire  to  know  how  the  premature  bud  blos- 
somed? Again  and  again  one  lingers  over  the  descriptions  of  the  char- 
acter of  that  baby  boy  Moses,  who  came  through  the  tempest,  amid  the 
angry  billows,  pillowed  on  his  dead  mother's  breast. 

There  is  no  more  faithful  portrayal  of  New  England  life  than  that 
which  Mrs.  Stowe  gives  in  "The  Pearl  of  Orr's  Island." 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the  pub- 
Ushers,  A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY,      -  New  York. 


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